


My King

by luciolelights



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom McCree, M/M, Minor Violence, Native/Mexican McCree, Pining Hanzo, Royalty AU, and smooch a lot, fictional setting, king and guardian au, playboy genji, they adopt a cute cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:05:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9618989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciolelights/pseuds/luciolelights
Summary: With the death of his father, Hanzo Shimada is set to become the new King of Hanamura, a small nation torn apart by a history of war. To ensure his protection, the family elders assign him a personal bodyguard from a land far to the west, who ends up being everything Hanzo expected, and more.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! This is a MONSTER of a fic at 22k, about twice the length than I intended. Whoops. But! It's a complete story, so I hope y'all enjoy the ride.
> 
> E rating is for a porn scene and some violence. tw: descriptions of blood and mangled bodies
> 
> I just wanna clarify before you start: the setting here is fictional, but based on reality. Kinda like Fullmetal Alchemist. Hanamura is a small nation (and yes, mura means village; that is explained here) based around Japan during the Shogun period. In this work, many things about the world of Hanamura in this story are inspired by Akatsuki no Yona (hence why I used a very western type of royalty rather than an emperor). Jesse is mixed First Nations and Latino here, from a 19th-century type of America way out west (we don't go there, but that's why he has certain technologies with him that don't exist in Hanamura).
> 
> EDIT: forgot to mention that Hanzo and McCree are in their mid to late 20's here. They both look inbetween their younger and older selves from canon (Hanzo doesn't have the terrible middle part in his hair. thank god)
> 
> With all that in mind, please enjoy!

The coronation was meant to be a celebration for Hanamura’s future, but Hanzo’s mind could only linger on the shadows haunting their past.

Hardly a week since his father suddenly passed away, and the entire populace acted as if nothing happened. As if they didn’t just lose a good and benevolent king, only for his eldest son to begin his reign sooner than anticipated. Hanzo wasn’t ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready. But now, he didn’t have a choice. The crown would be set on his head in mere minutes.

He reflected on the state of affairs as he waited for the ceremony to begin. Hanamura, a tiny nation, on the brink of war, losing their king. Despite Hanzo’s years and years of training and preparing himself for this, it was a recipe for disaster. For the first time in his life, he was at a loss for what he should do.

The blinds rose up, and he blinked at the sudden invasion of bright sunlight that hit his eyes. A deafening roar of the crowd below rang in his ears. They seemed overjoyed, much more excessively than Hanzo wanted to see. Why were they cheering for a king who didn’t know what he was doing? An inexperienced, pathetic king who would lead them to ruin. How could they favour him over his father?

He looked ahead of him to see the family elders standing before him. There were few of them, but they held nearly as much power altogether as the King did himself. They were facing the crowd who remained below, beneath a magnificent staircase. The elder in the center, Tanaka, spoke to the crowd in his booming voice as he was hoisting an object in the air above him. Hanzo blinked, squinting his eyes to it. He quickly realized it was the crown. Soon to be  _ his _ crown. An ornament of glittering golden vines, with two pairs of golden bars and jewels that dangled on the front sides.

Hanzo stood when Tanaka turned to face him, as was his cue. His elegant robes were heavy on his shoulders, the golden pattern trailing behind him as he stepped forward. 

He risked a glance to his right. Genji wasn’t there. Hanzo frowned, his shoulders sagging a bit. Genji wouldn’t forget, would he?

His thoughts crashed when Tanaka hissed and beckoned for him to step forward, and he complied. The crowd went silent as death as soon as he stepped forward and bent onto one knee. Tanaka made another declaration to the people that Hanzo didn’t listen to before setting the crown swiftly onto his head. Hanzo stood slowly, the weight of the golden ornaments becoming an inconvenience more than anything.

He wanted his brother at his side more than the decoration on his head.

* * *

 

Genji didn’t return to the palace until the ceremonies and feasts had ended after many hours. 

Every night since the death of their father, they had unintentionally fallen into something of a routine. Hanzo would venture away from the King’s quarters in the dead of night to visit his father’s shrine, nearly on the other end of the palace. This usually ended up happening around the same time Genji would return from the nearby village, and Hanzo often noticed him sneaking back into the grounds.

Hanzo never questioned Genji’s actions, understanding they were both still recovering from their father’s sudden death. They had their own coping mechanisms, he supposed. Hanzo found his in visiting the shrine; Genji with venturing into the village to drink until the pain left his chest.

Tonight was different, however. Hanzo decided to pry into his little brother’s antics, still feeling bitter that Genji skipped out on his coronation.

He caught Genji in the garden, snagging onto his sleeve from behind a crimson, wooden beam and pulling him back. Genji yelped, paused to realize it was his brother, and instead let out a snarl.

“Should you not be asleep?” Genji hissed. Hanzo replied with a scoff.

“Sleep has escaped me all week, much as it has done to you.” Hanzo released Genji’s sleeve, grateful when his brother didn’t run off but only crossed his arms and acted aloof. “Normally I do not care what you do in your spare time, but you have been coming home later than before. I would ask what is wrong, but…” Hanzo gave a soft chuckle and a shrug. “I already know that answer.”

Genji turned his head, pursed his lips, trying not to keep eye contact with his brother. He finally shook his head, giving a sigh. “I know.”

“But why were you not at my coronation?” Hanzo finally asked the question that tugged on his heartstrings for hours, and tried not to let his voice show how vulnerable he was. It didn’t work. “I… You said you would be there.”

Genji flung his head back to face Hanzo, eyes going wide as saucers and mouth hanging agape just a bit, “Was it  _ today _ ?” When Hanzo nodded, Genji flew a string of curses and clapped his hands together, bowing slightly. “I am so sorry, brother! I did not realize what day it was! You will forgive me, will you?”

Hanzo couldn’t help the smile that escaped. Probably his first genuine smile all week. Genji’s memory was never something to be dependent on. “Of course I do. The elders are more upset that you vanished than me.” He then frowned again as another burning question rung into his head, a hand resting on his brother’s shoulder. “But why do you stay out so late nowadays? I have been worried.”

That simple question kicked Genji from his cheerful attitude and back into a solemn one. Hanzo’s chest ached to see him switch to acting aloof, after he thought he’d finally broken beyond the mask his brother wore. They may have been close once, as children, but during moments like these, Hanzo could see how far apart they’d drifted in recent years.

“It is nothing, brother. I am only visiting friends,.” Genji muttered. But Hanzo noticed how he was shifting from foot to foot, hands at his side and eyes pointed to the ground. He was evidently lying. Hanzo didn’t feel anger at Genji lying to him, but it was more of a soft sadness for being lied to at all.

He decided to drop it. For now. “Get some sleep, brother.” He affectionately tousled Genji’s hair a bit, despite his cries of protest for ruining his stylized mop. “I hope I will see you soon.”

Genji paused, bit his lip. “I could… perhaps, uh, stay home tomorrow. Make up for what I did today, if that pleases you.”

Another smile erupted from Hanzo’s lips, this one more genuine. He could count two smiles within the week, now. “It does.”

* * *

 

“We are hiring a new bodyguard for you.”

Hanzo raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? I have no need for that.”

Tanaka shook his head, bushy brows furrowed against his eyes as he gave Hanzo a stern expression, “We are on the brink of war, Hanzo. You will not be safe for long.”

“The guards are capable of keeping the palace protected.”

Another family elder, a small and frail old woman named Hoshiko, spoke up to press their suggestion, “My lord, it is not just the palace that needs to be protected! You need a constant bodyguard, someone who can protect you at all times.”

Hanzo wrinkled his nose at the thought of never being allowed the freedom to be in solitude. He would listen to their offer, given that they are the family elders, after all. But so far, he wasn’t pleased.

“Who do you have in mind?”

The elders shifted glances with each other. Hanzo frowned. This wasn’t looking too promising.

“A mercenary,” Tanaka spoke up. His next few words were spoken shakily, as if terrified at the idea, “One from a country far to the west.”

The table shook and several cups of tea knocked over and spilled to the side when Hanzo slammed both of his fists against it, hardly noticing the destruction he caused. “An outsider!” he screeched, eyes flaming an electric blue, “I am  _ not  _ allowing an outsider into the palace!” He stood from the table and towered over the five elders. Hanzo felt his tattoos sparkle with electricity waiting impatiently to lash out.

Tanaka rose as well, “Calm yourself, my lord! We have been discussing this for months, I assure you. Your father approved of it before his death.”

Hanzo exhaled forcefully from his nose, pouting and sitting himself back down. Tanaka followed suit, continuing, “The mercenary is a skilled sharpshooter. It does not matter what you have to say, even as the king. He is already in Hanamura.”

“What?!” Hanzo hissed, fuming.

“I told you, this was approved before you were meant to be king,” Tanaka let out a sigh and rubbed his temple, “I suggest you grin and bear it, for now. If we find that he cannot be trusted, he will go. Does that sound fair to you?”

Hanzo pursed his lips. He didn’t really have a say in the matter, either way. The elders handle tasks such as this. Even as king, he can’t prevent a decision they make against him.

“Very well. But if he becomes our downfall, I will make certain the people know who is at fault.”

* * *

 

As Hanzo anticipated, the foreign mercenary’s arrival in the village and to Shimada palace caused quite a stir amongst the people. The King himself spent a night swallowed by insomnia, the same as every night since his father’s passing. Yet that night seemed to be the worst. Hanzo was uneasy at the idea of an outsider coming to this small nation, and for them to remain at the king’s side every hour of the day. It was no less than politely asking an assassin to visit his room and slit his throat.

He vaguely remembered dozing off sometime just before sunrise, his first chance of sleep all night. A servant woke him only a few hours later while in the middle of deep sleep. Feeling even more drained of energy than before, he stretched and pulled himself from bed. The sun beamed down at him through an oval-shaped window, the light stretched taut across the tatami mats. 

His servant informed him of the people’s distress at the sight of the foreigner, and rumours were circulating they would be losing another king soon. With a bitter taste in his mouth, Hanzo muttered to himself that may not be such an awful prospect. He waved off the servant’s questioning remark with a hand. 

Hanzo dressed in some of his nicer robes, as per the servant’s suggestion. She commented that the elders wished for him to present himself well before their guest. Hanzo hardly thought the stranger deserved it.

“You may be surprised,” the servant girl said as she tied Hanzo’s obi tightly on his waist, “you could end up liking this person. You will not truly know until you meet them, my lord.”

Hanzo didn’t respond.

He thanked the servant for her help and she left with a swift bow. The King stepped away from his chambers, moving to the main entrance of the palace. Greeting this guest into his country, and essentially into his home, left him feeling irked and bitter. He just wanted this over with.

He made his way through the winding hallways, finding Tanaka waiting for him just before the pair of sliding doors that led outside. They exchanged a nod and a silent glance of approval before stepping outside together.

“Perfect timing for you to awaken, my lord,” Tanaka began, facing forward despite speaking to Hanzo who was on his left, “the mercenary is just about to arrive, if the paranoia is enough evidence.”

“They have fair reason to be paranoid.”

Tanaka snorted at that, his mouth slamming shut, and he walked a bit faster from that point on. Hanzo didn’t bother to keep up.

Reaching the main entrance to the palace, Hanzo witnessed firsthand the amount of hype the outsider brought with him. A figure lay below, perched on a maroon horse, cloaked in crimson. A crowd of townsfolk surrounded him, held off only by a handful of palace guards. 

The people were shouting strings of curses and obscenities at the mercenary, who hardly seemed to mind it. Hanzo could hear several people declaring him as a spy or an assassin. He huffed, silently agreeing with his people. 

The foreigner swiveled off his horse, handing its reins to one of the guards. He casually made his way up the steps, the booming cries of the crowd growing louder the more he ascended. Hanzo studied the man once he was close enough. Beyond the red cloak he wore over his shoulders, he possessed a hat decorated in golden trinkets, a couple of belts, one of which had an obnoxious golden buckle and the other was decorated with bullets. Hanzo’s eyes locked onto the gun sitting in a holster against his hip, and he swallowed thickly.

When the stranger lifted his head, they shared eye contact for only a split second before Hanzo quickly moved his gaze away.

Tanaka stepped forward to greet the man once he reached the top of the staircase, making a wide and welcoming gesture. He spoke in a foreign tongue at first, but once the foreigner replied, they switched to the native language of Hanamura.

“We appreciate you for traveling so far, McCree,” Tanaka said as he turned to walk the foreigner over to where Hanzo was standing. The King tensed, his brows furrowing.

“It’s no trouble, sir. You’re payin’ me well enough, the trip was worth it.”

He had a husky voice, Hanzo noticed, who was also rather surprised he could speak their language so well. Maybe he’d been to the surrounding nations to acquaint himself with it. It seemed that he was a smoker, too, from the sound of it. Hanzo made a mental note to have the other guards make sure sir  _ McCree _ didn’t set the gardens ablaze.

“My liege.” Hanzo’s attention snapped back to Tanaka and to the mercenary, but the elder continued regardless, “this is your new bodyguard, Jesse McCree.”

The mercenary tipped his hat, striking a big, toothy grin. “Howdy.”

Hanzo’s eyebrow twitched from the unfamiliar expression, “ _ This _ is him? You insult me, Tanaka, you promised he’d be worth it. I see nothing of worth in this man.”

The grin on McCree’s face died instantly, to be replaced with a scowl. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, _ your lordship _ ,” the seething tone of his voice was accentuated by a mock curtsy, “I assure you, I’m the damn best sharpshooter you’ll find anywhere in the west.”

Hanzo scoffed, “Then I hope you’ll prove it to me, otherwise you’ll be finding a new job.”

“Not my call, partner,” McCree jutted a thumb into Tanaka’s general direction, “they’re the ones givin’ me the coin, not you.”

“I am the King.”

“Don’t care,” McCree tilted forward, a look of utter apathy on his face. Hanzo wrinkled his nose at the sudden smell of pinewood and what seemed to be tobacco. He hit a nail on the head with guessing the smoking habit. “I obey coin, and nothin’ else.” He leaned back, pulled a cigarillo from his pocket, and held it up to his teeth. Hanzo noticed that his left arm was made completely of metal from the elbow down, and repressed a shudder.

McCree was about to light the cigarillo until Tanaka politely asked him not to smoke on palace grounds. He huffed, clearly annoyed by the restriction, but kept the tobacco between his teeth. Hanzo couldn’t help but notice the way McCree’s eyes seemed to linger on him beneath a half-lidded gaze. 

_ Scoundrel _ , he remarked.  _ Staring at the King with such a lustful gaze in broad daylight! How revolting. _

Even as Hanzo turned away to leave, completely drained of social energy and wishing to rest some more, he could feel those amber eyes lingering on his back.

* * *

 

McCree assimilated well into the palace’s environment. Almost too well.

The other guards and even the servants seemed to enjoy his presence. He was suave, charming, and flirtatious, throwing innuendo at every servant girl he could get his eyes on. They didn’t seem to mind, from what Hanzo could see, and maybe they even enjoyed it. Or even welcomed it.

Hanzo was revolted by his actions. Especially considering McCree was tasked by the elders to remain at Hanzo’s side constantly. During meals, during baths, and even when night crept up and the King needed to rest. If McCree wasn’t such an insufferable person to be around, Hanzo almost would’ve taken pity on him and his lack of personal rest.

Genji warmed up to him quickly, though, and that seemed to bother Hanzo the most.

Merely a few days after McCree’s arrival, Hanzo had been meditating in the garden with McCree dozing off just a few feet away when Genji returned to the palace grounds, reeking of alcohol and fornication. Hanzo wrinkled his nose when he noticed his brother stepping into the grounds.

Hanzo broke free from his meditative state, pulling himself up to approach his brother. Genji hardly noticed him, stepping forward as if in a haze. He must have been drunk.  _ Again. _

“Genji,” Hanzo hissed, tugging at his brother’s sleeves until Genji turned around and registered who was speaking to him.

“Ah, anija!” he chirped, hopping up and down and throwing a hug over Hanzo’s shoulders, nearly crushing him with his dead weight. Hanzo forced him to stay on his feet, and Genji continued to slur his speech, “why are you out here, huh, anija? You’re always asleep by now!”

“Not tonight, I—” Genji nearly toppled over again, and Hanzo struggled to keep him upright, “shit, you drank too much. Hang on, Genji, I’ll get you to bed.”

A string of giggles erupted from his little brother’s throat, “But Hanzoooo, I’m not—”

_ Click. _

Hanzo’s breath hitched once he looked up, spotting a gleam of silver pointed against Genji’s head. He trailed his eyes down the barrel of the gun, seeing McCree on the other end. He swallowed thickly, his mind going numb.

He was right. McCree was no less than an assassin, here to betray them, to kill him, the King—

He shoved Genji away, only faintly hearing the thump of him slumping into the grass. Hanzo practically snarled when he lunged at McCree, both of their bodies toppling over, ensuing is a swirl of bodies scrambling for dominance. Hanzo succeeded, his thighs flush against the mercenary’s hips, and he managed to pry the gun from McCree’s grip during the skirmish. He pointed the barrel against his forehead, the metal gleaming in the thick moonlight.

McCree was heaving, his breath rapid and Hanzo noticed his tongue flick up to brush his upper lip. He didn’t allow himself to linger over the sight.

“Woah, woah, hold on there, my lord,” McCree sputtered, and he brought both of his hands up in a gesture of surrender to make a point, “I thought he was attackin’ ya is all. I thought he was an assassin or somethin’.”

Hanzo shifted his gaze over to Genji, seeing that he was sitting up now after his forceful fall. He seemed confused on why he was there. Hanzo shook his head, looking back to McCree.

“That man is my brother.”

“Oh? Shit, I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t know.”

“Touch him again and I’ll kill you myself,” Hanzo hissed, pressing the gun even closer against McCree’s forehead. He turned his attention back to Genji, calling out to him, “Genji, are you well?”

His brother nodded, “My head hurts. Brother, help me to bed.”

“In a moment.”

Just when Hanzo was ready to pull himself away from the gunslinger, he felt the brush of a hand against his thigh. He snatched it instantly, shoving the limb forward until it rested on the ground, raised over McCree’s head. The gunslinger looked exactly as a man caught in the act should. Eyes wide, brows to his hairline. Hanzo snarled, leaned closer, shifted the gun to sit under McCree’s jawline instead. His grip on McCree’s forearm went even tighter as the moment crept on.

“Do not  _ ever _ touch me,” he hissed.

McCree’s swallowed, thickly enough that the barrel of the gun shifted away just a smidge, and Hanzo saw sweat flooding from his pores. His breaths were even more ragged than before, but the wild look in his eyes waned down only to be replaced by that half-lidded gaze Hanzo remembered from mere days before. That alone made him want to blow his head off right then and there, but he refrained.

He felt something hard against his rear, and he only just realized he was still sitting on McCree’s hips. Leaning back, moving the gun away, he could feel it again, and his chest went numb once he realized exactly what it was. With a start, he pulled away, standing up swiftly. Hardly realizing that he dropped the gun, he distracted himself by returning to his brother to help him stand again.

Trying to ignore the heat flooding into his face, and especially the heat moving to the same place where he felt it from McCree, he lifted up his brother and had him lean against his shoulders. McCree didn’t speak or follow after them, seemingly just as petrified as Hanzo felt. He knew McCree would remain within a fair distance just because of his duties, but Hanzo knew that, if he had the choice, he would probably have left Hanamura right then and there.

As soon as Genji had been returned to his own quarters, Hanzo only made one other trip inside the palace to fetch his brother some water for the morning. He returned to his own quarters once that was finished. He checked once, twice, maybe even three times to be sure McCree was not near his room. He couldn’t find the gunslinger anywhere within range, assuming he was alone, finally.

Falling to his futon in a swift movement, Hanzo resisted the urge to scream. He disrobed quickly, tossing his robes aside and leaving them scattered on the tatami. He glanced down, seeing that the heat he tried to prevent only grew worse from being ignored. With a groan, he gripped his girth and began pumping himself impatiently. He fell back against the sheets, barely able to contain his moans and sighs as he brought himself to a quick and unsatisfactory climax.

Jesse McCree would surely be the death of him.

* * *

 

Genji stayed home the following day, since he was incredibly hungover and he practically drowned himself in cups of water. He also wanted to stick around and learn about the new bodyguard, as he mentioned to Hanzo when the elder brother brought him more water and a bowl of white rice. Genji dug into the meal so quickly that Hanzo had to force him to slow down.

“He seems interesting,” Genji chirped, face stuffed with grains of rice, “he is handsome, too.”

Hanzo wanted to groan, trying not to think about his shameful and indecent actions from the previous night. “I cannot say I agree.”

“Aw, well, you do not have any taste, brother. It is okay.”

Hanzo scowled at him, pursing his lips, “I am much too busy ruling a country to bother with such things.”

“Speaking of, should you not be with the elders?”

“They know by now that you are my priority. Do you need anything else to eat?”

Genji shook his head as he cleaned off the last few grains of rice stuck to his bowl, “For now I am fine. Thank you.” He set the bowl aside, took a swig of the water, and gave a pleasant sigh. “I already feel better!”

“Good. Do not drink so much next time.”

“I cannot promise you that, brother!” Genji chuckled at the scowl Hanzo threw at him. “Oh, lighten up, Hanzo! I was only having fun.”

While he knew Genji enjoyed his pleasantries, Hanzo couldn’t say he agreed. He knit his brows, frowning at the tatami. Their father defended Genji from the elders, coddling him and letting him do as he pleased. But with their father gone, Hanzo was growing worried at the thought of what the elders might do. He tried to protect Genji as much as he could, but… he was nowhere near as powerful as father was. Despite his title, the elders still held much authority over him during these early days of his rule. He was uncertain how much longer he could keep his brother safe.

He shook his head. No matter what the elders did or said, they couldn’t harm his brother. It was still worth the effort to try and change his ways, however. “It would be wise to take caution in the future.”

Genji bent his eyebrows, a rare scowl crossing his face, “You sound like father.”

“I only wish for your safety, Genji.”

His little brother hummed, biting down on chopsticks as a form of distraction, “I am fine. You worry too much.”

Hanzo pulled a sigh. Maybe he _ did _ worry too much. But Genji’s decision to stay out late, drink excessively, and bed strangers was enough to force him to worry. Such acts would only end up making his life more difficult in the long run.

“My liege.”

McCree’s familiar voice cut their conversation short, much to Hanzo’s disdain. He was not particularly in the mood to see his bodyguard after what happened the previous night.

When Hanzo didn’t respond to him beyond a cold stare, the gunslinger continued, “The elders are asking for you to come perform your duties.”

“They will wait patiently until Genji and I have finished,” Hanzo retorted with a frown. McCree’s face remained blank. He didn’t seem to care either way.

“It is fine, brother,” Genji prodded, pulling a small smile, “I feel much better thanks to you. Get going!”

Hanzo nodded. “I will see you again soon.”

* * *

 

Hanzo failed to finish his work before dark, completely swamped with stacks of paperwork and dozens upon dozens of tasks set out for him by the elders. Hanamura’s soldiers remained on standby all over their borders, trying to prevent invasion that would lead them to another war. Such a small country would be powerless against their larger neighbours.

It was an understatement to say that he was stressed. At times like these, Hanzo would often take some time to himself and relax with a hot bath. When leaving his desk, his back felt as if it was on the brink of cracking, his joints sore. The bath sounded especially pleasant that night, and he immediately headed to that side of the palace once his daily work was done. 

He realized quickly that McCree had left his post sometime while he was working, and Hanzo scoffed.  _ Unsurprising _ , he remarked.

The fastest way to the bath was through the gardens, and Hanzo was desperate enough for the soothing water that he wandered through them despite the lack of light. The moon was shining brightly, despite only half of it being visible at all. Only a handful of stone lanterns were lit at this hour, providing soft spots of light amongst the swirling paths set in stone.

The gardens were silent aside from a handful of sozu scattered around, the soft clinks of the bamboo filling the air. When only a few dozen steps away from the bath, Hanzo heard a noise that had him knitting his brows, perplexed. It sounded like a cry from an animal, but he couldn’t pinpoint exactly which one it was. The palace did not allow any animals to wander free, and to hear one was a rarity.

As he stepped closer to the noises, which only continued, he realized quickly there was a man’s voice mixed in there as well. Hanzo instantly pulled his guard up at this revelation. Was it an assassin? He slipped his arm into the front folds of his robe, where he pulled out the dagger that was tucked neatly inside. Keeping the blade hidden behind his back, he stepped forward cautiously. Now would have been a fine time for McCree to return and do his damn job, he realized with bitterness.

Finally, he discovered the source of the noises. He paused once he saw the red cloak, illuminated by a single stone lantern. He wasn’t certain who it was until he heard the figure speak, instantly recognizing that heavy drawl.

“C’mon now, sugar, stop fussin’.”

Hanzo frowned. Who on earth was he talking to? He stepped closer, remaining on high alert. The strange noises he heard before reached a peak, and the animal, or whatever is was, mewled loudly.

“Gah! Now why can’t you just—”

_ Crack. _

Hanzo’s breath escaped his lungs. He glanced down to see a twig split in half next to one of his feet. He cursed inwardly at himself, and stepped back when the figure lifted up and spun around. Hanzo thrust his dagger forward.

He was met with the barrel of a gun, gleaming with a soft orange glow from the fire of the nearest stone lantern. His blood ran cold, especially when he realized who the figure was. At least he was correct on his guess: it was McCree. In his arms was his red cloak, bundled up as if protecting something. 

The gunslinger had an expression that Hanzo had seen before: focused, and ready to empty out the barrel of his gun. There was only a split second between when Hanzo thought he’d be killed until McCree realized who he was, his hardened expression going soft, and until he finally put his gun away.

“Oh, it’s you.” McCree sounded displeased.

“What are you doing?” Hanzo wasn’t here to screw around. It was late, dark, and McCree left his post to wander around in the palace gardens. He had every right to be suspicious, even as he slid his dagger back into the folds of his robe.

“Sorry, my lord, but right now, you need to mind your business.” The gunslinger turned away again, messing with the bundle in his arms where Hanzo couldn’t see. He was hiding something, and he was proven correct when he heard the strange animalistic noise again.

“What do you have there?”

“I said, mind your business. Ain’t nothin’ here for you.”

“You left your post, McCree,” Hanzo folded his arms, voice seething, “unless you want to lose the payment we promised you, I suggest giving me an explanation.”

McCree turned his head to shoot Hanzo a glare. “You’re a real sonofabitch, y’know that? Fine.” He stood again, stepping closer. Hanzo refrained from leaning in, trying to hide his interest. McCree finally unfurled the bundle in his arms.

Hanzo peered down at the source of all those strange noises he’d heard: a tiny kitten with black fur was eyeing him with bright yellow eyes. The kitten mewled, the white of its sharp teeth gleaming in the lamplight. At the sight, Hanzo wished desperately to take the kitten into his own arms and care for it, immediately. He always had a fondness for cats, but unfortunately, pets were not allowed on the palace grounds, besides a few dogs trained by the guards.

“Found this lil one hangin’ around back here,” McCree explained, giving the kitten a scratch with his flesh hand, “couldn’t just leave her.”

Hanzo was certain he must have had stars in his eyes, for he had to snap back to reality. He quickly decided, despite any mistrust he may have for McCree, he would help this innocent creature however he could. “What will you do with her?”

A light shrug, “What can I do?”

“I will help,” Hanzo offered with a wave of his hand, “there is a bath nearby. I was already headed there, and it is warmer in there than out here. We can keep her there until we figure something else out.”

McCree gave him a long look, his eyes wide and his jaw dropping just an inch. Until he finally snapped it shut and nodded. “I suppose that’ll work. It’s pretty chilly out here.”

Hanzo ignored the unfamiliar terminology, staying silent as he guided McCree through the gardens up to the bath. When they entered, they both sighed in content at the warm air that permeated all throughout the room. It was a simple room made of stone that sat atop a flame, which kept the water hot and the steam that remained in the room kept it warm and comfortable.

As soon as they entered, Hanzo grabbed one of the shot glasses that sat on the shelf for any patrons who wished for a  _ truly _ relaxing bath, and filled it with cold water from the trough. He returned to McCree, who had already seated himself in the corner of the room and was cradling the kitten in his lap. Hanzo set the glass down, and McCree gave him a warm smile followed by a tip of his hat.

“Thank ya kindly.”

Hanzo smirked, “It is for the kitten, not you.”

McCree chuckled, and Hanzo’s heart stopped at the noise, which was warm and comforting. “Of course, sugar,” he drawled as he unearthed the kitten from the serape and let it wander around, “as if I would take it from this poor lil thing.” He coaxed the kitten to the water, and she perked up instantly as she started drinking. Hanzo’s hard and cold demeanor softened instantly at the sight, and especially at the look McCree was giving him.

Hanzo tried not to say anything about the pet name McCree used for him.  _ Sugar _ . A slight blush crawled up his cheeks, and he quickly shoved it back down.

A comfortable silence settled between them, and Hanzo took a moment to inspect the bath. He was still aching for one, even more sore and exhausted than before thanks to the sudden distraction. The water had not been drained yet, and he pressed his fingers to it. It was still hot, evidence that the fire must have still been crackling below.

He didn’t care whether McCree was present or not. He wanted to get in that bath now in the hopes he’d feel much better the next morning, until there was another day of constant work. He padded across the room to grab a bucket and filled it with cold water. Setting it down on the lip of the stone bath, he pulled off his sash and tossed it aside.

“W-Woah, what’re you doin’ there?” McCree’s panicked voice boomed throughout the room, and Hanzo glanced over to see him sweating up a storm. He didn’t think it was from the steam. A thought that had him smirking.

“Taking a bath. That is what I was going to do before I caught you in the garden.”

“You, uh… you want me to leave? Wait outside?”

“I do not care whether you stay or not. So long as you watch after her.” Hanzo turned away from McCree as he finished disrobing, pulling his two layers of robes off with one swift movement. The heavy fabric plopped to the ground gracefully, and he grabbed the bucket, stepping closer to the trough of water.

The first wave of cold water over his body woke him up instantly, any fatigue he felt quickly drifting away. He filled the bucket again before setting it down and grabbing a bar of soap instead, scrubbing and lathering his body and then giving himself another wave of water. 

As he scrubbed his hair, he risked a glance behind him to see if McCree remained in the room. Surely, he was still there, his flesh hand stroking the kitten who leaned against his leg and seemed relatively content. Eye contact was made between them, and Hanzo noticed that McCree had been staring at him. Or rather, a part of him that was much lower than his face. He turned back around quickly, staving off the heat rising to his cheeks. Another wave of cold water quenched it quickly.

“I like your tattoos,” McCree, again, broke the silence with his heavy drawl. Did he always have to make conversation? Silence was golden, after all. “When did you get them?”

Hanzo took a glance at them as he settled himself into the hot bath water, sighing in content at the pleasant sensation. The tattoo that swirled around his left arm was the most obvious of the two, and very few people knew of the one on his right leg. Genji shared one with him as well, but on the opposite leg.

“I was fourteen,” he replied, voice somber as the memories of dragons burning his skin with electric fire ran through his head, “every Shimada receives one. Or two, in my case.” The process had been agonizingly painful, but it was inevitable. He’d be consumed otherwise.

“Why are you so special?”

Hanzo chuckled, “I would like to know that, as well.”

McCree hummed softly, and Hanzo watched with one open eye as he brushed his fingers against the kitten’s fur. She mewled at him and bonked her head while leaning closer to his leg. They fell into another comfortable silence, and Hanzo couldn’t help the smile that swept onto his face. He sank further into the bath, keeping his eyes on McCree and the small animal.

“Will you be giving her a name?” he asked, stretching his legs out in the rather enormous tub. There was enough space for two people to lie down in this tub, a thought that Hanzo quickly shoved away when he realized how nice it would’ve been for McCree to join him. It was best the gunslinger didn’t sully the water.

“I dunno. Maybe.” McCree gave a shrug followed by a soft laugh, “Don’t wanna grow too attached, y’know?”

“I do not think that would be a problem,” Hanzo mused, tossing a grin his way, “it would be easier to have a name for her, after all.”

“Good point.” McCree scratched at his beard, “You got any ideas?”

Hanzo pried his eyes open, glancing down at the tiny kitten. He thought of her black fur, trying to come up with something that could match her appearance. He offered the first word that came to mind.

“How about… Soot?”

McCree snorted, “Soot?”

His cheeks flushed, embarrassed, “If you do not like it, then—”

“Nah, I like it! I do. That’s a cute name,” McCree grinned his stupidly flamboyant grin again, scritching Soot behind her ears, “Little Soot. She’s precious. Look! She fell asleep, not a care in the world.”

Hanzo blinked, glancing down at the sight. As he said, Soot had conked out and draped herself over McCree’s lap. The gunslinger laughed, unexpectedly loud, “My feet’re gonna fuzz up soon, but it looks like I’m trapped forever.”

Hanzo snorted. “I would offer my help, but I am quite comfortable here.”

“Well, I feel betrayed.”

They fell into a fit of laughter, and Hanzo could feel his chest growing tighter the more comfortable he became with McCree each minute. This was bizarre for him. Outside of his close family and a few of the elders, he could never find it in himself to trust anyone. But tonight, with McCree, he felt… warm. Safe. Completely different from when they first met.

“Y’know,” McCree broke his thoughts, his voice suddenly taking on a tint of seriousness, “I’ve noticed you don’t sleep much.”

Hanzo paused, knit his brows. Why did this matter right now? What was he getting at? More importantly… “How do you know that?”

“I stand guard outside your room every night, like I was told to. I hear you wander off sometimes.”

“I do not understand why this is a concern.”

“Are you okay? That’s why I’m askin’,” McCree deliberately hid his face with the brim of his hat, “havin’ trouble sleepin’ is never good news. I got firsthand experience with that.”

Hanzo shook his head, “I am fine. I have always have difficulty staying asleep. This is nothing new, but I appreciate the concern.”

“No problem.”

McCree left it at that, no longer trying to pry from him about anything anymore. He finally went silent, stroking Soot. He eventually dozed off, and Hanzo used that as his cue to finish up his bath and dry off. By the time he was dry and back in his robes, he leaned down and cautiously pressed a hand against the gunslinger’s shoulder.

“McCree. Wake up.”

“Hmm?” the gunslinger snorted as he popped his eyes open. They went wide once his gaze focused on Hanzo. “Oh, heh, sorry ‘bout that.”

Hanzo leaned back up and stepped away, “You seem to be tired as well.”

McCree yawned, rubbing an eye with his flesh hand, “Just part of the job, sweetheart.”

Hanzo frowned at the term of endearment.  _ Sweetheart _ . His gut clenched, but he tried not to pay it any attention. He changed the subject. “What should we do about Soot?”

McCree glanced down at the bundle of fur still snoozing in his lap, “I would offer to keep her in my room, but she might be caught. Lots of your guards go in there when I’m gone.”

Hanzo hummed, “I could keep her in my room, then.”

A chuckle, “That might work. I never see anyone but you in there, anyway.”

“It will work. I tell the servants to leave me alone unless there is an emergency,” Hanzo said as he leaned down to brush his fingertips against Soot’s fur, reveling for a moment at how soft she was. She mewled at him, stretched, and shifted into a new position in McCree’s lap, returning to her nap. Hanzo wanted to cry.

“I suppose we got ourselves an agreement, then,” McCree grinned and tipped his hat. “Lemme bring you back to your quarters, your highness.”

_ Your highness. _ He’d yet to refer to him as anything but ‘my liege’ or ‘my lord’ when it came to royalty-related terms. Hanzo’s heart was ready to burst from all these terms of endearment the gunslinger kept throwing at him, unfamiliar with being treated so kindly.

He tried to play it cool, staving off his lingering emotions. “Let us go.”

* * *

 

Soot assimilated well into Hanzo’s quarters. With one of his pillows, a glass for water and another for any food he and McCree found for her, she managed remarkably well. Being so young, she was energetic and Hanzo enjoyed spending time playing with her. McCree made himself more comfortable around Hanzo as well, and instead of holding his post outside of the room, he let himself in to see them both. Hanzo allowed this, taking comfort in the company.

Duties as King kept Hanzo from being around Soot as much as he would’ve liked. There was the constant fear that a servant would find the animal in his quarters and toss her back into the streets. His gut would wrench every night as he returned from work and his bath, relieved beyond measure to see her run up to him whenever he arrived and mewl energetically.

He and McCree began to consider taking her outside and finding someone in the village to watch after her. Genji learned about the situation at some point as well, offering to do so. McCree found the whole affair silly, saying that the King should have the power to keep a cat within the palace. Hanzo silently agreed, and told himself he shouldn’t worry so much, and he would play it out and see what happened.

There was one particular night where Hanzo found it especially difficult to fall asleep, and he spent several hours tossing and turning only to pull himself out of bed with a groan. Despite the comforting bath, his joints were beginning to ache all over again. Nonstop paperwork was starting to get to him. He wasn’t especially young anymore, but he didn’t think he could  _ feel _ this old at his age.

It had been several months since he’d visited his father’s shrine, he realized. Not since his coronation, actually. Tonight seemed as good of a time as any, and after slipping into sandals and some warmer robes, he stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, he was greeted with heavy snoring, which startled him more than anything. He spotted McCree sitting on the floor, his back against the wall and his head sagging on his shoulder. He was conked out. Hanzo knit his brows. Why was he out here, all alone? The realization sunk in, slowly but surely. He was supposed to be Hanzo’s  _ constant _ bodyguard, wasn’t he? He couldn’t leave his side. This left a bitter taste in the King’s mouth, feeling remorse for ignoring it for so long.

_ No wonder he always seemed so tired _ .

Hanzo leaned down, lightly shaking McCree’s shoulder. The gunslinger burst his eyes open, and for a split second, Hanzo could’ve sworn he saw fire in his eyes. It quenched quickly as McCree adjusted to the situation at hand.

“My lord? What’re you doin’ up so late?”

“I should ask the same as you,” Hanzo murmured, removing his hand but remaining at eye level with McCree, “Do you always sleep on the floor?”

“Just part of the job, sweetheart, don’t you worry your pretty head,” McCree adjusted his body so he wasn’t sitting so uncomfortably. Hanzo was grateful it was this dark, otherwise McCree would’ve seen his face turn bright red from the affectionate words. “The pay I’m gettin’ is worth every hour of sleep I lose.”

Hanzo frowned. “I do not agree with that. You should be able to sleep comfortably, or else you will not be able to do your job at all.”

“Ain’t like I can just pull a futon out into the middle of the hallway, sugar. It’s fine.”

_ No, it wasn’t _ . Hanzo bit his lip at the thought of an alternative, but he was unbelievably anxious to suggest it. He had to brace himself. “You could… sleep in my quarters. I have, uh… a large futon. There is enough space for two.”

Even in the dark, Hanzo could see the way McCree’s eyes went wide and lit up, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ shape. He snapped it shut after just a moment, and cleared his throat, “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me—”

“I want to help!” Hanzo snapped, more aggressively than he anticipated, and he softened quickly, “Please, let me help you. I cannot have my personal guardian losing a fight from exhaustion.”

McCree finally seemed to agree, for he nodded swiftly, “Alright, since you’re offerin’. Thank ya kindly.”

Hanzo leaned up and away from the gunslinger, who followed his movements. The King bit his lip again, shuffling his feet, “I was going to visit my father’s shrine. You are welcome to join me.”

A warm chuckle, “O’course. Anywhere you go, I go.”

Hanzo nodded, and turned away. If only McCree knew the way his heart pounded at those subtle words. 

His heart felt as if it was going to burst when they returned to the room and McCree removed his gear and crawled underneath the covers. Hanzo didn't want to admit his disappointment when McCree slept facing away from him, their backsides nearly touching.

He dozed off quickly, the warm body beside him a comforting and pleasant force that allowed him to feel safer in McCree's presence than ever before. 

* * *

 

They fell into a routine together. Hanzo woke early, worked all day with few breaks and dealt with the elders and Tanaka hounding him over everything, to end the day with a relaxing bath and some quality time with Soot. McCree remained at his side throughout the day, and after so many weeks, never protested when they both settled in beneath the blankets of Hanzo’s futon. 

Their situation almost felt domestic.  _ Almost. _

Over time, Hanzo found himself longing for McCree's warmth by the end of his long days. What these feelings were, he couldn't figure out. They were foreign to him. A sort of friendship formed between them, but what he wanted was… something else. 

McCree was handsome, that much he knew. He was warm, and comforting, almost like fire itself. Being around him used to make him cautious, but now he felt content. Hanzo liked his shaggy hair and messy beard, the deep drawl to his voice, and he especially liked the curly hairs on his chest that peeked out from beneath the shirt that lay under his serape. 

Hanzo didn't have an explanation for the way his stomach churned whenever he saw McCree. 

“You are in love,” Genji declared one afternoon during their weekly meeting. McCree was away, and the two brothers shared a bottle of sake in privacy. Hanzo explained the confusion rummaging through his brain from these strange feelings, but Genji’s answer made him blush violently. 

“I—I am not,” Hanzo sputtered. 

“Do you want to hold him? Kiss him?” Genji was grinning from ear to ear, and he leaned a bit closer, “Maybe something else, hm?”

Hanzo’s face heated up even more and he playfully shoved his brother, “Be quiet, you have had too much to drink.”

“And you have not had enough! Here, invite McCree, I will—”

“No,” Hanzo interrupted, suddenly growing serious, “I cannot have him know about this.”

“Hanzooo, that will only make this harder on you.” Genji proceeded to pour a shot for his brother, and then himself. “You will have to tell him someday. McCree is a good man, I like him. I would like to see your feelings reach him.”

Hanzo chose not to answer Genji’s second statement, “I… I will. But not yet. I need to see how this plays out.”

Genji groaned, “Fair enough. Here, drink up. You will need it.”

The alcohol burned his throat, but even that couldn't keep himself cool when he returned to McCree who was waiting out in the hallway, ready to begin the day’s tasks. 

* * *

 

“What is your story?”

“Hm?” McCree perked his head up, giving Hanzo a quizzical look. They were lying together in Hanzo’s bed, facing the ceiling. Sleeping had been difficult for both of them that night, and they settled for relaxing and talking instead. “What d’you wanna know, sugar?”

The pet name struck Hanzo’s heart directly, as sharp and piercing as an arrow, “Tell me about where you grew up. I am curious. I have never been to the west where you come from.”

McCree hummed, scratched his hairy chest through the open collar of his shirt, which Hanzo pretended not to notice. “Ain't much I can remember anymore. I was separated from my family when I was very young, and a gang took me in.”

“Oh,” Hanzo’s voice went quiet, “I am sorry.”

“It's alright. Ain't no big deal anymore.”

“What happened? If you do not mind me asking.”

“Nah, I don't. It was ages ago, I’m pretty much over it.” He sat up, leaning against the wall behind him. Hanzo didn’t follow the action, instead only rising enough to lean on one elbow, listening intently. “I lived with both of my folks. Ma was from a country to the south, and Pa was part of a small tribe, who we lived with. It’s been so long I can’t even remember what my own people were called.

But my people are considered ‘savages,’ and over the past few decades, the white men have been pickin’ us off one by one. They ain’t even from there, they came to our lands from across the ocean and just started callin’ it their own. I was lucky to survive. My folks… not so much. The gang that took me in had some good people, but they had me doin’ some real awful things. I finally got out of there once I was old enough, and I’ve been on the road ever since, just feedin’ myself with whatever job I could find.”

Hanzo was stunned, sitting there in silence for the better part of a minute. It was mostly vague information, but there was enough of it that was difficult to process. He couldn’t even imagine what it must have been like, losing his family, and his home, from the cruelty of others.

Without even thinking, Hanzo moved a hand over to squeeze McCree’s. The gunslinger was gazing off into the darkness of the room, his eyes and facial expression distant. But when he felt Hanzo’s hand, he moved his own to curl their fingers together. 

They sat together like that for some time, sitting in silence. Hanzo didn’t keep track of just how long they did so.

“I am sorry,” he finally said, his voice so low it was nearly a whisper, “I—I cannot imagine…”

“It’s fine, sugar, don’t worry. I’ve learned to let go of the past, and y’know what? I’m pretty happy with the situation I’ve found myself in.” Those words had Hanzo’s face heating up more and more by the second, and he was grateful for the darkness that hid his exposure. “Thank ya for listenin’. You got no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“Now, what’s  _ your  _ story? I realize I don’t know much ‘bout you aside from your pa dyin’ and you had to take over.”

Hanzo paused, pursing his lips. What was there to say? He led a simple life before he had to become King. Staying in the palace, spending his time with calligraphy, archery, gardening… he didn’t have an interesting story to tell, like McCree did. Hanzo finally sat himself upright after pulling away his hand that had been gripping McCree’s, and leaned against the same wall. “What do you wish to know?” he finally asked, then quickly added, “My life has been… relatively uninteresting.”

McCree chuckled, “Naw, now I don’t believe that! You’re  _ royalty _ , Hanzo, that’s pretty interestin’ by itself!”

He appreciated the kind words, but knew they rung untrue, and he shook his head, “I do not agree, but say what you will.”

“Alright, then, if you won’t tell me ‘bout yourself, how ‘bout Hanamura? What’s the story here? I ain’t ever seen a country so small.”

Now that, Hanzo could easily give him the satisfaction, “Hanamura was never meant to be a country, actually. It began as a small but prosperous village thousands of years ago. We… we would have grown larger if not for our neighbouring countries who attacked us for our resources.”

“Hmm,” McCree hummed, leaning a bit closer to Hanzo’s side, “sounds kinda like what happened to my people.”

“Unfortunately, it has yet to end. Even now, they harass us, trying to take what does not belong to them. It has been difficult, keeping our borders secure for so long.”

“You tired of it, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

McCree hummed again, and he leaned in so close that their shoulders brushed. Hanzo’s heart ceased to function for a split second, until he regained his composure.

He spoke softly. “I love my country, and I love my people. I do not wish to see them suffer this way… I am trying to keep them safe, but I fear that I will fail.”

“That’s an understandable way to feel, and I wish I could say everythin’ will be okay, but, well… shit happens. It’s better that ya understand that, and it’s admirable that you’re tryin’ this hard.”

A strong blush crawled onto his cheeks. “Thank you, McCree.”

“Jesse,” he blurted out, so suddenly it startled Hanzo, “call me Jesse.”

“Very well…  _ Jesse _ .” The name sounded strange on his tongue. Foreign.

“So, uh,” McCree switched topics again. He was very good at doing so without warning, Hanzo noticed. “You mind if I ask about the tattoos? Never gave me a clear answer ‘bout that. I’m just curious.”

“It is fine. I still did not trust you back then.”

“Aw, that means you trust me now?”

Hanzo scowled, shoving McCree lightly with an elbow, “You would still be sleeping in the hallway if I did not.”

“Fair enough,” McCree laughed lightly, the sound ringing warmly in Hanzo’s ears.

He exhaled slowly, calming down his nerves. McCree never failed to make him nervous beyond measure. Meeting with and listening to the elders haggle him was nothing compared to the anxiety that McCree’s  _ laughter _ forced onto him.

“The dragons are protectors of Hanamura,” Hanzo finally explained, and McCree shut his mouth long enough to listen. “They exist as spirits, but most cannot see them. The Shimada can control them, however, and they will tear apart a vessel’s flesh if not kept under control. And that,” he elaborated by stretching out his arm, the tattoo gleaming in what little light shone into the room from the oval window, “is where the tattoos come to play. I possess two spirits, and so I have two tattoos.”

“Wow.” For once, McCree had little to say. It was nothing less of a shock to see the man without words. “Are you able to summon them?”

“Yes,” Hanzo spoke cautiously, pulling his arm back down, “but they are extremely dangerous. They will rip apart anything I send them after, whether friend or foe. I choose not to use them unless absolutely necessary.”

“I can understand that.”

Hanzo turned sharply to face McCree, prodding an index finger against his chest, “You cannot let anyone know that I told you this. This is a secret to the Shimada family, and not even our people know of these spirits.”

Without warning, McCree leaned forward, gripping Hanzo’s hand tightly with his own. His voice went into its deep and sultry drawl, and Hanzo thought he was going to fall apart from it alone, “Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.” He pulled away just as suddenly, leaving Hanzo breathless and maybe a little disappointed. He watched as the gunslinger crawled back underneath the comforter, “Lovely talkin’ with ya, darlin’, but I’m tuckered out. I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

Hanzo followed suit, making himself comfortable. “Sweet dreams,” he said, almost without thinking.

He could see the way McCree’s eyes went wide, the whites of his eyes just barely visible from moonlight alone. “Y—You too.”

They slept back to back, and Hanzo had one of his most comforting bouts of sleep in years. He never felt so content with another body in his bed since he and Genji shared a bed together as children whenever it was cold, or his little brother was scared from something in the dark. McCree’s presence never failed to keep him feeling at ease.

When Hanzo woke next, he could see with one open eye that the sun was just about to rise. It was still early, and he realized with an inward groan that he only had a few hours of rest, and decided to fade back into slumber a bit longer. Until he noticed the warmth that normally was on the far side of the futon was  _ right against him _ .

McCree was pressed along his back, and when Hanzo turned his head to see, he realized the gunslinger was holding onto his waist from behind with one arm. McCree’s head rested against his raven hair, their legs entangled. McCree was sound asleep, and Hanzo could hear him snoring softly against his ear.

Everything in his body seemed to short-circuit. Hanzo had to remind himself how to breathe. They always slept back to back, and woke up with quite a bit of space between them. Soot would often take up that empty space instead. Never before did McCree or himself creep onto the other side of the futon to share space. He was uncertain if this was intentional, or if McCree normally latched onto anything in his sleep that he could get his hands on.

While trying to calm his nerves, Hanzo forced himself to stay calm, and decided to doze off again in the hopes he could get a few more hours of sleep before he would be woken up to begin his duties.

Waking up to a cold and empty futon left his chest aching in a way he’d never felt before.

* * *

 

The stress Hanzo experienced before was nothing compared to what he faced when informed that forces from their northern neighbour, Xia, had finally broken past Hanamura’s defenses and crossed the border. He was forced awake in the middle of the night with the news coming first from McCree, who had been meeting with the other guards to discuss a plan to keep the palace secure and defended.

“We’ve got a whole fleet up north keepin’ them at bay, but we don’t know how long they can hold ‘em off,” McCree explained that night, one hand soothingly placed on Hanzo’s shoulder as he sat up, yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

“Why did the elders not inform me?” Hanzo’s voice was dry, and shaken with terror, and he glanced outside through the oval window. “How late is it?”

“Dawn is still a way’s away,” McCree answered, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to take ya out of the palace to the safehouse in the south till we know they’ve left the country.”

“What?” Hanzo hissed, “I cannot just leave!”

“They’ll be comin’ after ya. You have to.”

Hanzo bit his lip. “And Genji?”

A silent pause, and McCree’s voice wavered, “He’s gone. We don’t know where he is.”

“Find him!” he screeched, fury rising up and boiling within his chest. “If he is not here, he is in the village. Find him, he needs to be protected!”

McCree threw him a hard look, shaking his head again, “Sugar, the only one I gotta look after is you. I can tell them where Genji might be, but my priority is you.” The gunslinger pulled himself off the floor, and Hanzo followed. He opened his mouth to speak, but McCree interrupted him before a single word could get out, “Pack up your stuff, we need to leave. I’ll be right back.”

Swiftly, he left the room before Hanzo could protest.

Hanzo froze, all the fear and panic swelling up in his chest to the point he could hardly breathe. He could only stand there, in a daze, watching the dark room swirl around him. Soot heard the commotion, propping herself up from her cozy spot in the center of their futon where she normally slept. She padded over to Hanzo’s legs, rubbing herself against them and mewling as she begged for attention. Hanzo obliged enough to pet her head and scratch underneath her ears, only as a way to calm his nerves. He swallowed his pride and began packing belongings into a satchel.

With no idea of how long they would be away, he packed what he could. They could’ve been gone for days, weeks… maybe even months. There was no way to be certain. He decided only to pack enough clothes to last him a week before they’d need washing. He hoped McCree would provide food for them both. Changing out of his sleeping robes into his kyudo-gi and hakama, the last items he grabbed were his bow and quiver, stock full of arrows, which he slipped on over his shoulders. It had been long since he’d last practiced—not since his father’s passing. Hopefully it would not be needed.

He managed to find the golden scarf he used to tie up his hair during archery practice. It had gone a bit discoloured and dusty with months of disuse. Rubbing it off and cleaning it best he could, he pulled his hair up and wrapped the tie around it, letting the ends flow freely over his back.

McCree finally returned to the room by the time Hanzo was leaving a plethora of food for Soot, not knowing what else to do for her well-being until they could return. Cats were able to take care of themselves extremely well, but even he knew that a kitten of her size was still vulnerable. To be safe, he left the sliding doors that led to the garden open by a crack in the chance she would need to leave to find food. He could only hope she’d still be here when they returned.

“Are you ready?” McCree questioned him as he finished, and Hanzo answered with a nod, stepping forward. The gunslinger chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, “Wow, never seen you with your hair up. It, uh, looks good.”

Hanzo smiled softly, the compliment reaching straight to his heart, “We should be going.”

McCree dropped his cheerful attitude immediately in the place of seriousness, knitting his brows, “Right. Let’s go. We’ll take my horse.”

Before they left Hanzo’s quarters, McCree took a moment to pull a cloak from his satchel, throwing it over Hanzo’s shoulders and tying the knot. He pulled the hood over Hanzo’s head, and whispered to him to keep it up at all times. Hanzo could only nod dully, a bit flustered at the delicate way McCree was treating him now.

Horses were strange creatures to Hanzo. They always seemed so enormous and frightening to him as a child, and even as an adult they made him a bit uncomfortable to be around. Shimada palace had a handful of horses, but they were rarely used within the country unless absolutely necessary. Tonight was one of those rare instances, and it was fortunate that McCree had his own. Hanzo watched silently, keeping his distance, as McCree brought the creature out of the stables and tugged it lightly over to him.

“This is Aquila.” McCree introduced Hanzo to her by showing him how to approach her. “Here, stick your hand out. She doesn't bite.” Hanzo lightly brushed above her snout, trying not to make eye contact with her dark pools that looked like the void itself. She snorted at him and he immediately pulled back his hand, which made McCree chuckle deeply. 

“I think she likes ya. Once I get her saddle on, we can ride.”

Hanzo nodded, stepping back to allow McCree to work. He hoisted a leather saddle over the horse’s back, reaching down to attach the belts and secure it to Aquila. When finished, he began attaching their bags of supplies along its length that dangled helplessly. She stood calmly, barely making any motion. For whatever reason, much to his discomfort, Aquila was staring directly at him the entire time. 

When the saddle was secure, McCree took Hanzo’s hand to help hoist him up, and swiftly joined him from behind. Hanzo tried not to notice their close proximity as McCree pressed against his back, reaching past him to grab the reins. 

“Put your hands here,” McCree guided his shaking hands to the strange piece on the front of the saddle that pointed skyward, “hold on tight now, sweetheart. We’re gonna go fast.”

Hanzo’s face couldn't possibly burn up anymore, and he was grateful McCree couldn't see it, “A—Alright.”

Despite the warning, Hanzo wasn't prepared at all for when McCree slapped the reins and Aquila rose up a few feet on her back hooves, neighing loudly before rushing forward and moving beyond the stables. It was something out of fiction, Hanzo realized through the adrenaline. They moved past the stables directly into the village beyond the palace gates. 

It was still the middle of the night, and there was no noise in the village beyond the stomping of Aquila’s hooves on the dirt roads. The only illumination came from the street lamps and the moon above. Yet somehow, McCree was able to see exceptionally well in the darkness to navigate the winding streets. 

Just as they were speeding past what Hanzo recognized as the brothel, a figure stepped out into the streets. One that Hanzo instantly recognized, if only for the bright green hair that nearly glowed back at him from the direct light of the moon. 

“Genji!”

He tried calling out to him as they dashed past, and Hanzo turned his head around to watch as his silhouette drifted further and further away. McCree didn't hesitate to keep Aquila moving forward, and Hanzo struggled, trying to break free from his grip. 

“We need to go back! Genji—”

“There’s no time!”

_ Then make time _ , he wanted to say, with a snarl. McCree didn't give him the chance to pull out a retort, speaking ahead, “We need to keep going. He'll be fine, Hanzo.”

Despite his words of reassurance, Hanzo was tense. He bit his lip, and turned back around to face forward. Sweat pooled in his palms as his grip on the saddle only grew more intense. Genji was just as vulnerable to assassins as he was. Why didn't McCree realize this? All he could do now was pray to the gods that Genji would make it home safely, and remain protected until Hanzo returned.

McCree spurred Aquila onward, and they pushed beyond the village borders until they reached the grassy, empty expanse beyond. Never before had Hanzo left the palace grounds, and he marveled at the landscape once they were beyond civilization. Hanamura must have been more beautiful during daylight hours, but even with nothing but moonlight to illuminate the earth, he could see just how gorgeous his country was. It was unfortunate he’d never witnessed such things until now.

They sped on, going beyond the fields of dirt roads and rice paddies until they reached the thicket of trees leading into a dense forest. McCree had to slow Aquila down to navigate through, maneuvering seamlessly around each tree that tried to block their path while maintaining a decent distance.

“How far are we going?” Hanzo cocked his head back to question the gunslinger pressed against his back.

“It’s a bit of a ride. A quarter of a day if we don’t stop.”

Hanzo snapped his head back, somewhat annoyed. What was he supposed to do for six hours? He tried to hide the yawn that escaped his throat in that moment, feeling the wave of exhaustion return to him now that his adrenaline had waned down. It was still a few hours until sunrise, and Hanzo had hardly any sleep as it was. Sitting atop the horse was no way to sleep, but he couldn’t help the drowsiness that pervaded his senses, and as his eyes slid shut, he felt himself falling into a warm embrace before his consciousness faded out.

* * *

 

Hanzo snapped awake, his eyes going wide as he went into a panic at finding himself in an unfamiliar room. He sat up, only to see a blanket covering his legs. McCree must have brought him out here, and surely this was the royal safe house he mentioned. It was light out, and he found himself in a small room, comfortably seated on a futon stuffed into the corner. He glanced around, seeing light seeping through a single window. The floor was covered in what Hanzo recognized as their supply bags, but McCree was nowhere to be seen.

Pulling himself off the futon, he noticed he remained in the clothes he left the palace in. His hair tie had come undone, and he pandered around to find his bow and quiver while he readjusted it. He found them both buried beneath a handful of bags, and as he rose up to attach them over his shoulder, he noticed another room jutting out of this one. Peering inside, he quickly realized it was nothing more than a water closet, and frowned.

Where was McCree?

The sound of a horse whining outside snapped his attention away, and Hanzo braced himself as he decided to venture outside the confines of the room. The entrance was a sliding door, and Hanzo carefully slid it open and peered outside with one eye.

Aquila was a few steps away from the entrance, and McCree was right beside her, petting her and cooing words to her in a language that Hanzo didn’t understand. He had a cigarillo between his teeth, the fumes drifting into the air. As Hanzo brought the door completely open and stepped outside to join him, McCree noticed him immediately.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” he grinned with a wave of his hand, “you really conked out last night. Was afraid you’d never wake up.”

“What did you expect? After I was so  _ rudely _ awakened.” Hanzo pulled out a playful smirk, folding his arms and looking smug.

“Oh, my bad. Next time I’ll be sure to treat you to some tea. I’m sure the assassins won’t mind waitin’.”

A laugh erupted from his throat and Hanzo shoved forward to land a smack on McCree’s metallic arm. “Be serious!” They exchanged laughter and playful jabs for several minutes, and when the moment died down, Hanzo took a chance to gather up his surroundings. They were somewhere deep within a forest. He could hear a river nearby, and when he looked to the sky, mountain peaks were looming above them. They must have been very far south; Hanamura’s borders were almost entirely mountains.

“Are you certain this place is safe?”

McCree’s expression went dim, and he gave a halfhearted shrug. “Can’t say for sure. It’s a helluva lot safer than the palace, though.”

A nod and a sigh came from Hanzo as he shook his head. “I hope Genji is well, too.”

“He’ll be fine, don’t you worry your pretty head,” McCree reassured him, stepping forward and landing a warm hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, “you Shimada are trained to defend yourselves against these kinds of things, aren’t ya? He can take care of himself.”

He frowned. “How do you know about that?”

“Uh—” McCree drew his hand away abruptly, taking a step back, “Genji told me.”

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, but decided to drop it altogether. It did not matter if McCree knew of the rigorous training the family put them through since childhood. After all, he did know for certain that Genji and McCree had grown rather close within the past few months since the gunslinger’s arrival. Of course Genji would tell him such things.

“Did I say somethin’ outta line?”

Hanzo shook his head, giving a soft smile as reassurance, “No, it is fine. I was only thinking.”

“‘Bout what? If you don’t mind my askin’.”

Without word, Hanzo reached behind him to tug off the bow from around his shoulders, and he let his hands brush against the woodwork. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, “I must admit to you, I am uncertain if I will be able to defend myself. I have not practiced my archery since becoming King.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, ain’t it?”

“Yes, but I wish to—”

McCree silenced him with a wave of his hand, “I told you not to worry. It’s my job, after all.” His face suddenly dropped all lightness and humour, “I’ll get you safely back to Genji, even if it kills me.”

* * *

 

Despite McCree’s word of reassurance, Hanzo was tense. Nevermind that they were alone together in the middle of the woods with a limited amount of rations and little to no idea when it would be safe to return to the palace. It was Hanzo’s first time away from home, and it took little time for him to grow frustrated at his foreign, albeit temporary, way of living.

The futon was comfortable, but only intended for one person. This meant that they had to share it by sleeping at an incredibly close proximity to each other. Their backs ended up pressed against each other every night, and feeling McCree’s warmth against him was enough to keep him much too anxious to sleep properly. Especially the few times he was woken up in the middle of the night to find McCree’s arms wrapped around his waist. It was impossible to ignore, and the entirety of his face burned each time.

Two weeks passed while in the woods, and while they maintained a steady consumption of their rations, it was depleting well enough that the concern for food was growing. McCree managed to snag them a few rabbits and deer, which satisfied them both for quite some time. Hanzo wasn’t particularly fond of the way bullets treated the animal meat, and decided to hone his archery by practicing on any game he could find.

However, his inexperience with the outdoors along with the months away from his archery made that nearly impossible. He’d wasted several arrows on the swiftly-moving rabbits, and even more on deer who managed to run away from him after one shot. Despite the amount of hunting he attempted, he only ever returned to their safehouse with one successful kill. With discontent, he decided to accept eating meat tarnished by iron.

Practicing his archery also led him to using a nearby tree as his victim instead. An inanimate object would have been much better to use rather than ones that could easily evade him. Every night as McCree slept, Hanzo would pull himself from their futon to step outside, firing as many shots as he could before he became exhausted. Doing this, he could see his aim already improving to the state it once was.

The night he managed to make fifty shots before reaching exhaustion, he paused for a break beside the river. The moon shined brightly over the world; not quite a full moon, but fairly close to it. Yet something seemed off. After washing his face with handfuls of crystal clear water from the river, Hanzo could sense a presence watching him. He went tense immediately, reaching for his bow. 

Moonlight glinted off of a pair of darts that whizzed past him as he rose onto his feet. His heart nearly stopped altogether, eyes going wide as he glanced down at the perpetrating needles.  _ They had been discovered.  _

Hanzo rose up and drew back his bow, eyes darting all over as he searched for the attacker. His feet shuffled as he kept himself constantly in motion to avoid anymore darts that may strike at him. It was too dark to see, and he inched his way back to the safehouse, hoping he could bring McCree out here. 

No—he didn't need him. He could take care of this himself. This is what he trained for his entire life.  _ He could do this.  _

The dragons beneath his skin rumbled, electric fire darting through his veins as they impatiently waited to be released. It had been many years since they tasted flesh. They hungered for more. But Hanzo contained himself—he didn't need them, either.

A shadow moved before him, and he released. The arrow fired forward, but whizzed past his attacker. Hanzo growled, bracing himself for what was to come. Needles flung towards him, and he stepped away in time, their ends sticking deeply into the dirt. 

The assault paused again, the air going eerily silent. Just as Hanzo wanted to fling himself back into the safe house to let McCree take care of this in his stead, a force approached him from behind and snagged his neck. He sputtered, dropping his bow to claw at the arm that dug into his skin, clenching roughly against his airways and blocking the passage of air altogether. He couldn't speak, could only struggle and groan as he tried to break free. 

McCree was so close, if only—

Electric fire flooded his veins, bursting forth from the tattoos on his arm and leg. Despite wishing to keep the dragons contained, Hanzo finally conceded that he was helpless in his current state. Closing his eyes and bracing himself for the worst, he granted them permission to break free. 

Dual roars echoed in the woods as the dragons burst from his skin, and when his throat was finally free, he knew the assassin behind him was no more. He listened with a sick twist in his stomach as their powerful jaws crushed the assailant and tore his body apart. 

He collapsed to his knees, body going limp and meek. His lungs gasped, desperate to make up for all the air that was blocked off. A voice called out to him, one that took him many moments to recognize as McCree’s. In seconds, McCree’s hands were cradling his shoulders, demanding answers. 

“Your highness! Shit—what happened?”

Hanzo couldn't answer. Never mind that his lungs were still weak, but his throat locked tight when the memories flashed before him.  _ He killed someone. The dragons tore them apart.  _

Hanzo shook his head and let his hands cover his face, and when McCree saw him do so, he began whispering words of encouragement while kneading both of his shoulders. “Shh, my liege, it's okay. You're safe.”

“I—I killed him, I—”

McCree shushed him again, leaning forward and bringing Hanzo into a tight embrace. McCree’s head leaned against Hanzo’s, and the archer could feel those large hands brushing through his hair. He didn't even realize the tie had undone itself. 

“I should have been there to protect you. I'm sorry,” McCree murmured, voice soft and soothing. 

Hanzo shook his head.  _ It wasn't your fault. It was mine.  _ The words didn't form like he wanted them to. He was still so shaken up, and he tried inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm himself. 

“There we go, that's it. Deep breaths. You'll be fine.”

Hanzo heeded his encouragement, until he finally ceased his shaking and sobs. When he finally calmed down, he remained in McCree’s hold, his forehead leaning against the gunslinger’s shoulder. He buried his face into the crook of his neck, reveling in the scent of pinewood and cigarillo smoke. He always detested McCree's smoking habits before, but now he found himself craving the familiar smell. 

Craving other things from McCree, as well. 

“M’glad you're okay. When I heard the commotion, I… I was so scared I lost ya.”

His grip on McCree's shirt tightened, the same as his chest did. The kind and generous words were enough to break Hanzo into pieces. He swallowed thickly, making his choice.  _ This was it.  _

McCree's eyes went wide when Hanzo pulled back enough for them to exchange a look. The moment was short-lived once Hanzo traced his hands to McCree’s cheeks and pulled him down. Their lips met hesitantly at first from both ends, but it didn’t take long for them to grow accustomed and the kiss only grew more intense. Their mouths melded together so perfectly, and Hanzo felt his heart may burst.

He pulled away first, silencing McCree’s questioning look by pulling him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” Hanzo murmured into the gunslinger’s shoulder.

He could hear McCree release a shaky breath, “How long you been wantin’ to do that, sweetheart?”

He paused. How long  _ had _ it been? “Weeks. Months, maybe,” Hanzo said, his voice low and calculated, “I do not know.”

McCree chuckled, running fingers through his raven locks. Hanzo sighed contentedly at the touch. “Y’know what? I been wantin’ to do that since I first laid eyes on ya.”

Hanzo pulled back, his eyes searching with a questioning look directly into the gunslinger’s. He swallowed thickly. “Really?”

“Of course,” McCree drawled heavily, one thumb reaching up to tug lightly at Hanzo’s bottom lip, “you’re gorgeous, Hanzo. A bit of a prick at first, I admit, but the more we’ve gotten to know each other, well… ya really swept me away.”

It may not have been possible for Hanzo’s cheeks to grow any more hot. He chuckled softly and turned his gaze away, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. “I admit… I have felt the same way. I could not stand you for so long, but… you proved me wrong.”

Without words, McCree was the one to meld their mouths together this time, and Hanzo drank himself into the kiss. One set of fingers tugged at the fabric on McCree’s shoulder, the other running deftly through his ragged hair. The second kiss was more intense than the first, and they were flushed chest-to-chest and panting heavily by the end of it.

McCree licked his lips and pressed their foreheads together, “What say we head back inside? It’s awful chilly out here.”

Hanzo could only nod, allowing McCree to slip away and he watched as the gunslinger bent over to snatch up his fallen bow. As Hanzo pulled himself off the ground, he watched as McCree murmured to himself while leaning over and inspecting what remained of the assassin’s body. Hanzo’s gut squeezed onto itself, and he hurried back within the confines of the safe house. He slipped off his kyudo-gi and tossed them aside, dressing into the robes he normally wore when he slept. McCree wandered into the room just as he tied the string, and he exchanged a questioning look with the other.

McCree set the bow aside to join the pile of their belongings, “You, uh… did a real number on that guy. Not gonna go into detail, but he’s real mangled up. Can’t even tell it used to be a person.” McCree laughed lightly, but it sounded forced. “What’d you do?”

Hanzo felt queasy, and definitely didn’t want to talk about this right now. He sunk his head, eyes darting to the floor. “I did not mean to—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Sorry I asked.” McCree stepped forward, his hand brushing Hanzo’s cheek, moving a fallen strand of hair from his face. “But if it happens again, you need to come get me, okay?”

“I—I am sorry… I thought I could handle it myself, but—”

“Use me so that you can live, Hanzo,” McCree took another step forward, drawing Hanzo into an embrace, “I belong to you, darlin’. I’m here to keep you safe.”

_ You are here for the payment _ , Hanzo wanted to retort. He wrapped his arms around McCree’s waist, pressing his face into his shoulder. Even if it were true, maybe that wasn’t the case for McCree anymore. Maybe he remained at Hanzo’s side for another reason. It was wishful thinking, perhaps.

Hanzo pulled back, gazing firmly into McCree’s eyes and, despite himself, all of his apprehension to be involved with him on this level washed away. He was the King, after all. Associating himself intimately with his personal bodyguard was going to end poorly no matter how hard he may try to avoid his fate. The one factor that didn’t crush his resolve was the knowledge that they were alone out here, and no one could find out. But once they returned to the palace, well… this would cease to exist.

He pulled completely away from McCree’s embrace, and settled himself down on their shared futon. Glancing back up to see McCree staring at him in a stupor, he nearly wanted to laugh. He beckoned him over, and McCree obliged with a skip in his step. The gunslinger was evidently eager, yet didn’t even know what was coming.

They melted together quickly, lips meeting lips, fingers intertwining, skin pressing against skin. Hanzo hardly registered when McCree undid the tie on his robes, and he shivered at the cool touch that pressed against his pectorals. Usually McCree was incredibly warm to the touch, but tonight he was nearly ice cold. Was he anxious?

Hanzo refused to allow McCree the pleasure to strip him down without returning the favour. He tugged forcefully against the gunslinger’s shirt, wrenching it open and sighing into his mouth when his hands dragged along the vast expanse of his chest. McCree responded by pressing one leg against Hanzo’s crotch, grinding and creating a bit of friction. Hanzo was so wrapped up in the moment that he didn’t even realize how hard he’d become until then.

“Tell me what you want, Hanzo,” McCree murmured against his ear, pressing light kisses and nibbles to his jaw and neck. “I can make you feel good.”

That damn drawl and the way he whispered sweet nothings to him had Hanzo suppressing a moan, clawing down at the futon. The grinding against his erection was driving him wild with lust. But he refused to let McCree have the upper hand.

Fingers slithered into McCree’s hair and tugged roughly at the long locks. Hanzo savoured the low groan that erupted from his lips, and brought the gunslinger down into a fiery kiss. His other hand sought out McCree’s, guiding it to his torso, and further down, down… until his hand was mere inches above the hard length pressed flush against Hanzo’s thigh.

“I want you,” Hanzo murmured as he pulled himself away from McCree’s lips. He guided McCree to tug down the hakama that remained on his waist, whispering soft words of encouragement. When McCree finally took him in hand with his flesh limb, Hanzo groaned softly and dug nails into his shoulders.

“You ever done this before?” McCree questioned, stroking languidly. It was too slow, much too slow for Hanzo. “I don’t imagine a king gets out much.”

Hanzo didn’t bother to stifle the laughter that erupted from his throat, “My brother is a playboy, you fool. I had my share of brothel girls when I was younger.”

“And now?”

“I do not have time for such things now. Nor interest.” Hanzo peered up at McCree, eyes going half-lidded. “But… I think I have found a good alternative.”

The warm smile McCree threw at him in that instant filled Hanzo with a joy he had not felt in many years. McCree was watching him now, studying his body language as the fingers around his length regained their grip and sped up their pace. 

“You're so fuckin’ gorgeous, darlin’,” McCree murmured. He bent over, taking a peaked nipple into his mouth, and Hanzo groaned. Sweat was pooling within the hand that clung to the futon, and his breaths went ragged. McCree’s alluring voice didn't help any, especially when he pulled away from Hanzo’s pectorals and kept running that  _ damn _ mouth of his. “Y’know… I could hear you, that night. When I almost attacked Genji.” Hanzo was confused at first of what he meant, but when the realization hit him, he stifled a disgruntled sigh. “I could hear you touching yourself. Been wantin’ to bed you ever since.”

Hanzo let out a low moan and a curse underneath his breath. That drawl of McCree’s did wonders on him, and he loathed being able to fall apart so effortlessly just from his voice. Vaguely, he could remember the night McCree was talking about. While his memory was fuzzy, he did remember that night as the first time he realized he wanted this from McCree. The thought of McCree hearing him come undone to nothing but his hand and his own imagination should have angered him, but it didn’t.

“Goddamn, sugar, I love hearing you moan like that,” McCree drawled, breath hot against Hanzo’s ear, and the pace on his dick sped up once more, “You’re gonna love it, sweetheart. I’ll be so good to you.”

Hanzo threw his head back, the alluring words hitting a core in his gut. He arched off the bed like a taut bowstring, but instantly went tense when he felt cool metal press against his entrance. Once he made sense of what was happening, he shot up and McCree pulled away, looking dazed and perplexed. Hanzo moved forward, pushing against McCree’s shoulders until his back hit the futon, his eyes wide and gazing up at Hanzo with knit brows in his confusion.

The King was grinning widely, a mischievous aura surrounding him, “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think you’d have the upper hand over me all night?”

McCree huffed, but he didn’t seem upset. Quite the opposite, actually. Hanzo was seated directly on his crotch, and he could feel the bulging erection beneath the fabric of the gunslinger’s pants.

Hanzo leaned forward, ever so slowly, a hand brushing up against McCree’s throat and into his beard, “You seemed to forget that you belong to me, gunslinger.” His hand moved away from McCree’s throat, dragging down along the expanse of his bare chest and through the thickness of the curls there. “You will be the one to scream tonight, not me.”

The sight of McCree’s breath hitching in his throat sent an icy chill directly down Hanzo’s spine. The gunslinger started rutting against him, desperate for friction, and Hanzo supposed he would allow it. But when McCree set his hands against his waist, Hanzo snatched them right up and threw them back against the futon, gaze full of electric fire. He clicked his tongue. “Touch me, and I will stop,” he declared.

“Fuck, please—sweetheart—”

Hanzo ignored his pleas, easing himself off of McCree’s hips to position himself between his thighs. He tugged off his pants, and only paused for a moment to witness the sight before him. McCree was… well endowed, to say the least. Hanzo felt his mouth watering at the sight.

His strokes brought McCree’s attention back, the gunslinger moaning softly and whispering words of pleasure, followed by ones of encouragement. Hanzo drank in each one, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the control he possessed over McCree. It was unlike any of his previous sexual experiences with brothel girls who simply laid on bedsheets and let him go to town. He realized he was enjoying himself, watching McCree squirm and go breathless. 

Having McCree’s cock in his hand wasn't enough, he realized. He craved more, and before he could second-guess himself, he leaned down and took McCree into his mouth. The gunslinger damn near whimpered, and brushed his fingertips lightly against Hanzo’s hair before the archer flung the invading limb away. McCree protested with a whine, to which Hanzo responded by swallowing down as much of his exceeding length as he could. He shuddered at the light touch of calves against his upper back.

“Fuck, darlin’, you're killin’ me—” another groan after Hanzo sped up his pace, pausing to attend to the tip and swirl his tongue. McCree’s legs pulled up, pushing against Hanzo’s shoulders in an attempt to distance himself, but Hanzo wasn't having any of that. He gripped his hips, drawing further and clinging on roughly enough that McCree couldn't slip away. 

“I'm—I'm gonna come, sugar—oh, sweet honey glazed hell—”

Hanzo pulled away with a pop, and McCree released the most irritated groan he'd ever heard. 

“You are such a  _ dick. _ ”

Hanzo grinned, leaned up, wiped his mouth, “What was it you once said before? You are what you eat?”

McCree chuckled, softly at first, and it quickly exploded into uproarious laughter, “Shit, you're an ass, but goddamn, do I love ya.”

His chest went tight, breath stopping short in his throat.  _ Love. McCree loved him? _

An unfamiliar concept. Hanzo had experienced plenty of love from his mother, father, Genji… but love from someone beyond his family? A  _ romantic _ love? He didn't know what to do, or say, and sure enough, when he left the statement untouched, McCree’s mouth filled in the empty space. 

“Y’know… I got somethin’ from my homeland that can, uh, help us… finish the job here. If ya catch my drift.”

Hanzo finally met McCree’s eyes with a flickered glance down to him, mouth watering at how the gunslinger looked all sprawled out, flushed red, and panting. On display, just for him. 

He raised a single eyebrow at McCree, “What?” Hanzo questioned, definitely not catching his drift. 

“So you can  _ fuck _ me. _ ” _

Hanzo paused, startled. Despite the lust he felt prior, he was beginning to have doubts. What would this mean for them if they formed this intimate relationship now? A king and his bodyguard. Hanzo didn't even want to imagine how the elders would react. 

Subconsciously, he let a hand brush along the expanse of McCree’s hairy belly. He didn't notice before the softness that sat between layers of muscle, and pressed his fingers together to prod at the folds above his hips. 

McCree didn't seem to notice, but he had other things on his mind. He pulled away from Hanzo, and off the futon. Hanzo blinked, hardly paying attention. He glanced over slightly to watch as McCree dug into one of his satchels, only to toss whatever object he spoke of right at Hanzo, which he barely caught. 

Hanzo frowned as he glanced down at said object: a small tube with a clear liquid inside, littered with labels in a language he couldn't read. McCree stepped back over to him and plopped down to where he was before. 

“We call this stuff ‘lube’ and I've yet to see it around these parts,” McCree explained as he made himself comfortable against the futon. 

Hanzo blinked. “How does this work?” He could hardly believe he was asking this, genuinely considering fucking his bodyguard senseless. He  _ wanted  _ to; admitting it, however, was no easy task. 

“I'll show you,” McCree’s voice dropped an octave and he drawled heavily, grabbing the tube from Hanzo’s grip. He popped the cap open and poured a generous amount on his fingertips. McCree sat back a bit, dropping onto the futon once more and spreading his legs wide open. Hanzo briefly forgot how to breathe. 

What McCree did next would have been revolting to Hanzo within a different circumstance. He brought the lubricated fingers to his opening, pressing one inside, soon followed by another. McCree moaned softly at the intrusion, and Hanzo felt his cock perking back up with a newfound interest. He had never craved anything like he craved McCree within this moment, and watched him intimately. He realized after some time of watching McCree work himself over, the gunslinger was staring at him all the same. 

“Gonna come for real this time if you keep lookin’ at me like that, darlin’,” he drawled, huffing and pressing the fingers further inside him. “I think I'm ready now, if you wanna get your turn.”

That had Hanzo snapping back to reality. His breath hitched, and without hesitation he snatched the tube of liquid away from him. He stole a kiss from McCree as he popped the cap open, dripping the liquid onto his weeping cock. Asking permission with his eyes alone, Hanzo hesitated when he finally pressed against McCree’s hole. The gunslinger cooed words of encouragement to him, urging him on. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,  _ fuck, _ you feel so good.” McCree moaned and bucked his hips as Hanzo pressed forward, inch by inch, his forehead dipping against the gunslinger’s neck. He shuddered when he felt nails drape against his spine and along the expanse of his tattoo, little crescent moon-shaped marks of red being left behind. “Goddamn, sugar, you're perfect. So gorgeous, my king, so good to me, my liege—”

“Enough of the pleasantries,” the King whispered harshly, “my name is Hanzo.”

“When you start callin’ me Jesse like I asked you to, I'll call you whatever you want.”

For that, Hanzo leaned up, and drove into him, hard. McCree—Jesse cried out, his hands pushing against the wall to brace himself. 

Hanzo readjusted his grip on Jesse, slipping the gunslinger’s legs up until both calves were against his shoulders. He leaned forward, nearly folding Jesse in half, and continued his brutal pace. The room filled with the noises of skin slapping skin, Jesse’s moans and cries, and Hanzo’s heavy panting. Every cry and groan that erupted from Jesse’s lips drove Hanzo wild, and desperate for more.

He ceased his movements, pulling out and ignoring the disappointed sigh from Jesse. Gripping Jesse’s hips, he flipped him over and drove back inside him, picking up where he left off. Jesse was whimpering and whining pathetically by now, desperately gripping the futon and digging his knees into it with his ass kept up for Hanzo’s use. His head hung low, forehead pressed against the sheets with his unkempt hair pooled around his face. The archer bent down and dug his fingers into Jesse’s hair, gripping tightly and pulling his head back enough for the gunslinger to cry out. 

The rhythm he maintained was brutal, Hanzo knew. But Jesse didn’t seem to complain, and didn’t beg him to stop. Jesse looked so gorgeous on his hands and knees, face buried into the futon and practically howling. Hanzo was surprised to witness just how loud he was, but he was soaking in every scream and moan. Leaning down, slowing his pace by just a bit, he pressed his lips against the nape of Jesse’s neck, kneading his hips with deft fingers. One hand slithered down to grip Jesse’s pressing erection, and he stroked his cock in time with his thrusts. Jesse babbled incoherently, his cock twitching and leaking pre that dripped over Hanzo’s fingertips.

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ , that’s it, sweetheart… I’m gonna—”

Jesse screamed when he came, and Hanzo eased up, worked him through it, delivered praise and pecks along his spine as the gunslinger calmed himself and steadied his breathing. Hanzo pulled away as Jesse dropped onto the futon, trying not to force attention on the fact that he was left unfinished. He was satisfied at making Jesse come, but the gunslinger was having none of it. Jesse watched him for a moment with one open eye, shaking his head and pulling Hanzo back down with him.

“M’not gonna leave you unfinished, darlin’.”

“It is fine,” Hanzo mused, smiling despite himself, “I do not mind.”

“No, it ain’t. Here, lay down.”

Hanzo was hesitant, but he complied. Jesse eased him down onto the futon, and he shivered when he felt what remained of Jesse’s orgasm on his back. Jesse gripped his thighs, forcing them forward in order to bend Hanzo backward. The King watched his descent with a wary eye, keeping himself from questioning his intentions until Jesse was lingering right above his entrance.

“What are you— _ ohh _ ,” Hanzo’s eyelids snapped shut as he moaned and bucked his hips as Jesse pressed the flat of his tongue against his hole. That was the  _ last _ thing he expected Jesse to do, but despite how revolting it would’ve been to him in any other situation, Hanzo quickly realized that it felt  _ damn _ good. Even better, actually, once Jesse slipped his tongue inside and starting fucking him with his mouth alone.

With Jesse below and his hand stroking his cock desperately, Hanzo finally came undone with a contained groan, spilling over himself and onto his belly. He sighed once it was finally finished, and as soon as Jesse pulled away, he dropped his legs back down, feeling too exhausted and drained to even keep them up anymore.

Jesse made himself comfortable beside him, propped up against one arm and throwing a sultry look down at Hanzo. He licked his lips, “Good?” he asked, voice husky and worn-out but still maintaining his alluring drawl.

Hanzo nodded, too exhausted to even speak. He turned onto his side, facing Jesse, and tugged the gunslinger closer with one arm. Pressing his head against Jesse’s chest, he inhaled the musky, masculine scent of tobacco and pinewood. Jesse chuckled lightly, the sound bringing forth a warmth into the pit of Hanzo’s stomach, and he wrapped his arms around Hanzo as well.

“I’m glad, darlin’,” Jesse murmured, his mouth against Hanzo’s hair. “You were fuckin’ amazin’ tonight. I’ve never come like that before.”

Hanzo blinked. “Really? I am… flattered. It has been a long time for me, after all.”

“Well,” the gunslinger mused, tangling their legs together, “those brothel girls must have been good practice.”

The King laughed at that, brushing fingertips lightly against Jesse’s spine. After a moment, he paused, and spoke solemnly, “They never made me feel as good as you did.”

He felt the arms draped along his back tighten at that, and Jesse went uncharacteristically silent. Several uncomfortable moments of quiet passed before he finally said something. “Shit… it’s been a real long time since I fell for anyone this badly.”

Hanzo paused, biting his lip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Not since—” he dropped the sentence halfway, shaking his head, “—nevermind. Forget I said anythin’.”

Not wanting to dread on what Jesse was about to say, Hanzo moved on. “You are the first, I must admit.”

“Not surprisin’,” Jesse admitted with a chuckle, “royalty ain’t a good place for romance.”

Hanzo pried away from Jesse’s chest, leaning up and dragging both of his hands to his face, pulling him down into a fierce kiss, desperation seeping through every flame he licked into his mouth. When he pulled away, Jesse was stunned into silence, and Hanzo’s voice was hoarse as he whispered, “I love you, Jesse McCree. If… if possible, I want to make this work.”

Jesse gulped, “Y—Yeah, me too, darlin’.”

“It will be difficult. Tanaka and the other elders would never approve.”

“Are you betrothed?”

The question was sudden, hitting a spot in Hanzo’s chest that left him without words. Finally, after a moment of thought, he shook his head, “Not yet. I wish I could say I never will be, but… you know how it goes.”

“We’ll make it work, sweetheart. Whatever happens, happens.”

Hanzo nodded, pressing back into Jesse’s pectorals. A comfortable silence formed between them, and after a bit of repositioning their bodies and pulling blankets over themselves, they managed to drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

Another week was spent in the woods before they received the confirmation by carrier pigeon that it was safe to return to the palace. Hanzo and Jesse coupled several more times during their time together in solitude, and received the news while in the middle of cleansing themselves in the river. While ecstatic to return to civilization, there was a subtle melancholy knowing they would have to be discreet from then on to avoid suspicions of their relationship. Hanzo was not looking forward to that, wishing instead to be out in the open. But he was the King, and he had obligations. Romance was not one of them.

The palace remained the same as when they left, albeit decorated with significantly less guards. The message shared no details of what happened during their absence, only that the northern forces managed to send the invaders back to their homeland. What happened in Hanamura was unknown to him, and that irked him more than he wanted it to.

They arrived as they left: on horseback, but instead of in the dead of night, they returned to the palace by midday after a long and arduous journey. After servants brought their supplies into the palace and sent Aquila back to the stables, they made the trek back up to the gardens and into the palace grounds.

As soon as they moved beyond the main gates, Hanzo was immediately greeted by Genji who tackled him into a tight hug.

“Brother! I am so glad you are safe!” Genji cried, pulling away to speak directly to Hanzo, “They wouldn’t tell me what happened! I was so worried, Hanzo—” Genji hugged him a second time, lingering in his grasp for a longer moment. Hanzo patted his brother’s back, a silent signal for his understanding.

“I was worried of the same, Genji,” Hanzo murmured, being the one to break their hug this time.

Genji turned to Jesse, and did something that startled Hanzo to witness. He bowed his head low, and when he bent back up, he said, “Thank you for protecting my brother.” The delinquent Genji, who constantly disobeyed the family and refused to respect his superiors,  _ bowed _ and showed his respect for Jesse. Hanzo thought for a moment that he did, in fact, die from the assassin, and this was the afterlife he was doomed for.

Jesse chuckled and tipped his hat. “Just doin’ my job. No need to thank me.”

Genji shook his head at that, grinning, “Do not be so modest, McCree! I am grateful for what you have done.”

Hanzo scoffed, “Genji, you almost sound like a prince! Did you have too much to drink at the brothel?”

“For your information, I have not been since you left.”

Hanzo blinked. He wondered once more if he actually was still alive. “Really?” Genji practically  _ lived _ at the brothel, or at the local bars. This was unheard of.

A nod, and Genji glued his eyes to the ground, “I was worried.”

That forced another hug to spawn between the brothers, but this time, initiated by Hanzo. A hug that lasted much longer than the other two. When they separated, Hanzo requested that he and Jesse be given some time to rest after their journey, and Genji let them go without argument.

As soon as they returned to Hanzo’s quarters, the King scoured the room for Soot, with Jesse’s assistance. He checked her food dish first, seeing that no scraps remained from the generous amount he left behind. He glanced at the screen door that led to the gardens, seeing that it had opened further from how he had left it. Which meant that she left the room at some point.

“No sign of her,” Jesse mused, patting a sympathetic hand on Hanzo’s shoulder, “she could be anywhere.” Hanzo finally released a shaky breath, condemning himself. This was all his fault, if only—

A mewl echoed through the room, and both men held their breath, stopping short. They heard another cry, coming from the futon, and simultaneously looked over to it, spotting a lump beneath the comforters. Hanzo was the first to laugh despite himself, and bent over to pull back the blankets and reveal the little ball of fur who chirped right at them as soon as she saw them. Jesse lifted her up and pressed her against his chest, cooing and giving her kisses on the top of her head. Hanzo scratched at the bottom of her chin, and she closed her eyes and mewled in content.

After Jesse released her and allowed her to roam the room freely, the two fell onto the futon themselves with fiery kisses and lingering touches. There was no goal, the two only pressing together for the sake of  _ being  _ together. Finally, they were back in the place they called home, and they could return to their previous routines.

Jesse pulled away from the kiss first, his large and warm hands running up and down Hanzo’s back. “I dunno ‘bout you, darlin’, but I think I’d like to take a real bath again. What d’ya say?”

Hanzo nodded eagerly, pressing his lips against Jesse’s once again for good measure. “Sounds perfect.”

* * *

 

“Jesse.”

“Hm?”

Hanzo pressed closer to Jesse, burying his face in the curve of his neck, murmuring, “You mentioned someone before. Someone you loved. Who were they?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s… a sore subject for me.”

“I apologize. You do not have to—”

He shook his head, chuckling slightly, “Nah, it’s fine. Maybe it’s better for me to talk about it. Get it off my chest.”

Hanzo hummed, nodding. “Only do what you feel comfortable with.”

Jesse let out a sigh, leaning back against the lip of the tub. Since returning to the palace, soaking in the bath together after a long day of work had been added to their usual routine. Nobody could disturb them out here, and they were able to enjoy the bath in privacy. Hanzo looked forward to it each night.

“I told you I was in a gang, yeah? Well, the person who got me out of there is the one I was talkin’ about.” He paused to run his metallic fingers through his wet hair. “His… I called him Gabe. He was more of a father to me than anythin’, and it wasn’t in the romantic sense that I loved him. He really meant a lot to me, though.”

“What happened to him?”

Jesse downcast his eyes, sighing. “It’s kind of a long, complicated story. The gist being that we were in this thing together, called Overwatch, but we were in our own division: Blackwatch. Gabe was the leader of Blackwatch, and the guy he was closest to besides me ran Overwatch. I… don’t know exactly what happened, because I left before it got ugly. But they had a fight, and they, well… they both died in an explosion.”

Hanzo was horrified, and he pressed comforting touches against Jesse’s soft belly. “I am sorry.”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart. It’s been years, and I’ve mostly moved on.” He smiled suddenly, leaning down to press a kiss against Hanzo’s lips. “‘Sides, I’m a man who focuses on the present, and I gotta say, what a good present it is.”

Hanzo grinned and laughed lightly. “You have a good pay and a King’s affections. Most men would kill for such things.”

“I probably would've been one of those men in another life.”

Hanzo grinned, his thumb brushing Jesse’s lower lip. “You should consider yourself fortunate, then.”

“You know I do.” Jesse stole another kiss, letting this one linger longer than the others. His fingers trailed through Hanzo’s hair, thumbs flush against the King’s cheeks. When they separated, Jesse pressed their foreheads together and sighed deeply. “I dunno how I got so lucky.”

Hanzo laughed lightly, pressing his forehead against Jesse’s and drinking in his scent, his eyes closing with a contented sigh. 

“I suppose fate works in mysterious ways.”

* * *

 

Days passed into weeks; weeks became months. Hanzo continued his duties as the King, spending his time on paperwork or in meetings with the elders. He began to accept townsfolk into the palace to listen to their woes, making promises of solutions that he was unsure if he was able to maintain. But the looming threat of war continued on the north, and Hanamura’s resources were going thin. 

Throughout all of the stress and troubles, Jesse was the only force that could keep Hanzo level-headed. His comforting touches and soft-spoken words filled him with a warmth that felt new and exhilarating every time. Love remained an unfamiliar concept to him, but he found himself craving it more and more from the foreigner he never thought he could so much as trust. 

Long days of duties would dissolve into time spent in the bath followed by some between their sheets. Jesse was always open to letting Hanzo de-stress with the use of his body, sharp thrusts and pinches of teeth over every corner of his physique. Jesse enjoyed it, drank up the pleasure, and sometimes he would give it all back to Hanzo by returning the favour. 

Living as the king of such a small nation was difficult, but Jesse helped maintain his sanity. 

Until there was the unaddressed matter of Genji and his less-than-ideal activities, which were brought up by Tanaka quite suddenly amidst a meeting discussing a trade agreement. 

“We are concerned about your brother, my liege,” Tanaka said, wrinkled brow drawn down and looking concerned. Or maybe regretful. Hanzo was unsure. 

The King raised one eyebrow, annoyed at the mention of his brother by such unworthy mouths. “And what would that be? He has done nothing.”

“That's exactly it. He  _ has _ done nothing. Nothing but waste his time on pleasantries.”

Hanzo clicked his tongue. “Why do you care how Genji spends his time? I disapprove as well, but my brother will never be on the throne. What he does is no concern of yours.”

“He is a disgrace to the Shimada name.”

A jolt of electric fire burst through Hanzo then, making its way to his fist and slamming a thrust upon the meeting table, cups of tea tipping over from the impact. The women elders gasped, drawing back at his outrage, but he did not falter. “You will silence your tongue before I remove it myself!”

The elders looked on him in horror, eyes wide as saucers. Except for Tanaka, who knit his brows in a powerful frown. Hanzo paused, caught his breath, and slowly pulled away, inclining his head in a low bow. “I apologize, I—I was out of line.”

“It is fine, Hanzo.” But from the tone of Tanaka’s voice, nothing was fine. His voice went cold. “However, Genji’s actions will only lead to the demise of the family, and possibly the rest of the nation. We must get rid of him.”

Hanzo paused, pursed his lips, and drew on a deep scowl. “And how exactly do you plan to accomplish this?”

Tanaka glanced warily between the other elders. Hoshiko bent her head down, shaking it solemnly. The other elders kept their gaze to the floor, except for Tanaka, who wore his head up proudly. 

“He needs to die, and  _ you  _ will kill him.”

Hanzo’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. He swallowed thickly, hands digging into the fabric of his robes in an attempt to calm himself. “I will  _ not  _ kill my own brother.”

“If you do not, we will do it ourselves,” Tanaka hissed, breaking his respectful conduct by standing upright, face going red from his fury, “Genji is a fool, and we will not have him disrespecting us any further! Your father coddled and protected him long enough, but with his death, we can finally be rid of him!”

“I will do the same as my father if that is what it takes. If you touch him, I can have you tried for treason.”

Tanaka chuckled lowly, shaking his head, “The elders hold power over you, my liege. You cannot touch us.”

Hanzo gulped, gaze shifting away from the intensity Tanaka gave off in his eyes. The elder was right. Hanzo was a step below them despite being King. It was an unfair system, he knew, but there was nothing he could do against them. His resolve crumbled, shaking fists buried in his knees.

“And what would you have me do?”

Tanaka grinned, placing himself back down in his seat. His bony and wrinkled fingers leaned against the table, cold tea still dripping along its surface. “Use the dragons. They will tear him apart, and if anyone asks, we can say… Genji ran away from home. We will handle the rest.”

“Very well.” Hanzo’s throat felt dry. He bowed again, excusing himself from the table, and made his way back to his quarters. None of the elders made an effort to stop him from leaving. 

Jesse was leaning against the wall just outside the meeting room, his attention perking back up when Hanzo rushed past him. He followed the King with a skip to his step. 

“Hey, boss,” he drawled, stepping carefully around servants lingering in the hallway until he caught up to Hanzo, walking beside him, “everythin’ alright?”

Hanzo didn't falter, keeping his eyes forward. “I will tell you when we are in privacy.”

Jesse hummed, “Fair enough.”

As soon as they returned to their room, Hanzo slammed the sliding doors closed with an intensity of rage he rarely felt. He dropped to his knees immediately, feeling a swell of negativity seep into his very core. He wanted to cry, but he resisted the temptation. A King should not be crying before his bodyguard.

Jesse was quick to spring to his side, hands gripping his shoulders and easing him away from the sliding doors over to the futon. He was babbling soothing words, but Hanzo couldn’t make out half of them. His head was swimming, and he could barely stay on his feet until he finally hit the comforting surface of their shared futon. Soot rose from the ball she had curled into to rush to Hanzo’s side, mewling and demanding attention. Hanzo obliged, bringing her close and pressing her up against him, her soft fur another comforting presence.

Jesse was watching him carefully, seating himself beside him but maintaining a respectful distance. Hanzo had never seen him so quiet, but as always, it didn’t last. “You alright?” he nearly whispered, concern spread evenly all over his expression. 

Hanzo nodded, “I apologize for the… display.”

“Honey, don’t you worry about it, you know I don’t mind.” He pursed his lips, frowning solemnly. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

A sigh, and a bite of his lip. Talking about his feelings, despite months of getting to know Jesse, still did not make Hanzo feel entirely comfortable. But this was a serious matter, and affected both of them dearly. Jesse deserved to know. “I believe it would be best to talk about it. I think that… that may help me.”

“Spill it out whenever you’re ready, sugar. You seem awful mad about it, whatever it is.”

Hanzo exhaled deeply, running a hand along Soot’s back. Her loud purring kept him feeling calm. “I am  _ furious _ . The elders have requested something from me. Something I could never do.”

Jesse pressed closer, his hand reaching over to Hanzo’s free one and squeezing it tight. “What’d they do?” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet; unnerving for Hanzo to hear.

His throat locked up just as he was about to say it. He steadied his breathing, forcing the swell of emotions from bursting forth, “They… they asked me to—to kill Genji.”

The room went still, as if time itself stopped. Hanzo blinked, finally lifting his eyes to look at Jesse, and his heart stopped short. Jesse’s eyes were wide, amber irises glazed over with tears that threatened to drip. He shook his head wildly, cursed to himself, removed his hat and lunged it towards the wall. Hanzo wished to follow his temperament, but kept himself calm.

With a groan, Jesse stood, and began pacing around the room. He was babbling in his native language, and Hanzo could only understand random words from the whole mess of it. Finally, he switched back to Hanzo’s tongue, “I cannot fuckin’ believe this. I can’t believe they’d try to make you do this shit.” He looked back to Hanzo, returning to his side on the futon, cradling the King’s face in his hands. “What’re we gonna do? Why do they want this?”

Hanzo’s brows knit, and he wanted to falter. “They say he is a disgrace, and he will bring about the family’s ruin. They are fools… my brother has done nothing! He—He...” He finally caved, startling Soot out of his lap, but he didn’t care. Fingers dug into the folds of Jesse’s shirt, and Hanzo leaned forward, breathing in his comforting scent. He was grateful not to be alone in this trying time.

When the tears came, Hanzo hardly noticed. He didn’t even realize until he saw that he’d created wet spots on Jesse’s shirt, but the gunslinger didn’t seem to mind. The crying startled Hanzo—he hadn’t cried before another person since the death of his mother, when he and Genji cradled each other after the funeral. Yet Jesse was there to cry with him, and they remained together for some time, holding each other and sharing the same emotions.

Hanzo’s family has had enough death. His mother, then his father, and now… he would not accept this. He refused to let Genji be the next one to suffer. They were all that remained of the Shimada legacy, but more importantly, they only had each other.

Jesse finally pulled away from their embrace, leaning their foreheads together. He spoke softly, but it was soothing. “You don’t have to kill him, sweetheart. I don’t care what those old croons say.”

Hanzo heaved, shaking his head. “If I do not, they will. They hold authority over me… there is nothing I can do.”

Large, warm hands brushed up the length of Hanzo’s arms, and Jesse sighed softly. His hands dug into the fabric of Hanzo’s robes. “Maybe… maybe there’s something  _ I  _ could do.”

Hanzo blinked, leaning away from his touch, trying to gaze directly into his eyes. “What—”

“But I can’t promise you’ll like what I have to say.”

“Jesse, tell me. Please.”

A long sigh, followed by a hand that combed through his shaggy and unkempt hair. Jesse averted his eyes away from Hanzo’s intense gaze. “I could get him out of the country. He would be safe with Overwatch. But… I can’t promise I’d be able to come back.”

Hanzo considered it, tossing the idea over in his head. Dare he take Genji’s life and keep Jesse with him, or lose them both with their lives intact? The answer was obvious, of course, but he wasn’t particularly happy with either option.

“I believe… that would be our best option.” He chose his words carefully, trying not to let out the bitter taste in his mouth.

Jesse’s hands found their way back into his, their fingers entwining as he gave a comforting squeeze. “I’ll send a message to Overwatch tonight. We’ll figure this out, Hanzo… together.”

“I wish I could join you both.”

“I know.”

“I wish—I wish I wasn’t the King.”

“I know.”

“I wish…” Hanzo’s felt the tears prick at his eyes again, and he buried his face in the confines of Jesse’s chest, gripping desperately to him and seeking warmth and safety.

He wasn’t ready to lose what little he had.

* * *

 

Blood dripped evenly over the odachi, silver blade gleaming crimson in the soft candlelight within the meeting room. It was late, and Tanaka was appalled to see Hanzo within his quarters at this hour. Hanzo stepped forward to where he sat at his desk, tossing the bloodied sword carelessly to the floor. Tanaka glanced up at him with wide eyes.

“The deed has been done,” Hanzo said blankly, his voice cold and emotionless.

Tanaka blinked, brows knitting. “You—You actually did it.” He laughed once, a sinister laugh. “We did not think you would do it.”

Hanzo did not respond directly to his words. “I have done as you instructed. The dragons destroyed his body completely. There is nothing left of him.”

“Then why have you brought me this sword?”

“You do not recognize my brother’s weapon? He tried to defend himself with this.”

“I—Very well. You may leave, Hanzo.” Tanaka said as he grabbed the bloody sword at arm’s length, carrying it away. “Thank you for your service to the Shimadas.”

Hanzo left without saying or hearing another word, storming his way over to the bath to cleanse himself of his impurity. He scrubbed his body thoroughly, not even wasting time with a soak in the bath, instead dressing as soon as he was clean.

Even with the blood off of his hands, he felt filthy.

He stepped out into the gardens, reaching the westernmost point of the palace grounds. From here, he could see a great distance down below, fields and forests expanding out to the horizon. The moon was bright that night, and nearly full. Much of his country was visible, and he realized how little he paid attention to the land he governed. Hanamura Kingdom was gorgeous. He wished he’d realized it sooner.

Electric fire flickered along his left arm and right leg, dual glows of bright blue swimming around him as the dragons came to life. He did not summon them of his own will, but kept his attention away from either of them. It was difficult to trust what he could hardly control.

_ You should have left too, _ they whispered to him. He swallowed thickly.

“I could not,” Hanzo responded, his voice hoarse. It had been a long night. “I have duties to my country, and my people.”

_ You are alone now. _

“I know.”

_ Choosing neither of them when you could have had one. _

Hanzo hissed, wishing he could banish the spirits back into his tattoos. “I would sooner die than have my brother killed by my own hand.”

_ Maybe you should die. He could become King instead. _

“Why do you care? You are spirits, you have no place in this world. Our troubles are nothing of your concern.”

They didn’t answer that. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? The dragons did as they pleased. They swirled around him, stopping in front of him and blocking his vision of the land below, demanding his attention. He threw them a scowl.

“Is there a purpose to what you are doing?”

_ We were going to offer you our assistance, but if you would prefer _ —

“Wait!” he cried out, finally soaking in their non-threatening words. He cleared his throat. “I apologize for my rudeness. Please.”

_ When you may wish to speak to Genji, we may contact him through his spirit dragon. _

“Thank you,” Hanzo said, in all honesty. It was difficult to display his gratefulness in this trying time. “I will take you up on that offer when I have had rest.”

_ Very well, _ the dragons whispered, swirling around him several times until they returned to their respective places marked on his body. He exhaled deeply, shaking off the shiver that had threatened to run through his body during the exchange. Never before had he spoken to the dragons so… casually. They were fearsome beasts, and very rarely did Hanzo exchange any words or pleasantries with them. Those empty eyes left him in horror.

He returned swiftly to his quarters, scooping Soot into his arms and settling himself down into the futon. While the size of it never changed, it felt empty without Jesse’s presence. Hanzo released a shaky sigh, combing his fingers through Soot’s soft fur. She had grown considerably large in the months since he and Jesse found her in the garden. She was big enough to fill up his lap now, and that was where she often liked to lay during her naps.

“At least I still have you,” he whispered to the cat, who meowed right back at him. That delivered a soft smile to his face.

Sleeping was especially difficult that night. He’d spent months sharing a bed with Jesse, and with him suddenly gone, he felt… devoid. A sinking emptiness pooled in the deepest pit of his stomach. Was this what heartbreak felt like?

His mind couldn’t refrain from thinking back to the past week or two of time, as they rushed to make plans to smuggle Genji out of Hanamura. Overwatch was quick to respond, detailing that they had space for Genji to join their ranks. Hanzo delivered to Jesse details of the best route to take to avoid the guards on the western border, which ran along a mountain range. He wondered if the two were within the mountains now, navigating their way out.

When it came to the matter of explaining the situation to Genji, his little brother was upset, but surprisingly calm about it all. Hanzo knew deeply that Genji might have longed for it. He’s always despised the captivity they’d experienced by growing up within royalty, and his trips to brothels and bars were the closest he’d ever get to true freedom. Genji even commented that he knew he’d be disposed of by the elders at some point, and mostly, he was only shocked to hear that Hanzo was put up to the task.

_ “There is no way you would do it, would you, Hanzo?” he asked that night, tugging at Hanzo’s sleeves. _

_ “Never in a thousand lifetimes,” Hanzo admitted. _

It was difficult not to break down as Hanzo said his goodbyes to his lover and his brother soon after.

_ Jesse was adjusting the saddle on Aquila as Hanzo and Genji exchanged their final embraces, a plethora of emotions swimming around them, almost blinding. To spend their lives together as brothers only for it all to end so quickly and suddenly tugged at their hearts. Hanzo wished desperately for their circumstances to be different. Had their father still been alive, or they were never royalty to begin with, surely this never would have happened. _

_ When Jesse had finished preparing everything for their departure, Hanzo tugged him away, requesting a moment alone. They hid in shadows behind the stables, and as soon as Genji was far enough away, Hanzo was quick to latch onto Jesse, burying his face in his shoulders. _

_ “I do not want you to leave…” Hanzo murmured, keeping back a spring of tears that threatened to break. _

_ Jesse paused, gulped, proceeded to wrap his arms around Hanzo, digging his cheeks against his hair. His scruffy facial hair was coarse against his head. Hanzo realized he would miss feeling that beard against him every night. “I know, darlin’, I know.” He heaved, pulled away and gripped Hanzo’s shoulders, forcing him to share eye contact. “I’m gonna do whatever I can to come back to you, I swear it.” _

_ The tears were prickling now, threatening to burst. “Take care of Genji for me.” _

_ “Of course. He’ll be safe in Overwatch’s hands.” _

_ “Will you write to me?” _

_ Jesse nodded. “Every day, if I can.” _

_ Hanzo sniffed, wiped his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his robes. “P _ — _ Please, kiss me. One last time.” _

_ The gunslinger didn’t hesitate, closing their distance within seconds and drinking in the taste of Hanzo’s lips. The King gasped lightly into the kiss, letting himself be swept away by it. Hanzo’s hands traveled up to Jesse’s hair, his fingers digging in and gripping tightly. Teeth clicked and tongues danced, and they were left panting and desperate for breath by the end of it. Jesse pulled back, taking Hanzo’s soft hand and leaning down to press his lips there, whispering quiet words of his native tongue into Hanzo’s ear. Words that Hanzo recognized, having learned them from him before. _

_ “Te amo, Hanzo.” _

Watching them ride off, swiftly leaving the confines of the village, had Hanzo’s chest swelling with dread. Yet, the promise that Jesse would return kept him going. Years of sending and receiving letters via carrier pigeons and years of getting through each day knowing they would be reunited prevented him from giving up and letting himself succumb. 

When Tanaka died—his corruption going away as soon as a long life finally caught up to the old bastard—was when Hanzo knew it was the right time to bring his brother and lover back to Hanamura. He sent letters immediately, detailing the circumstances. Overwatch was kind enough to release them both, however, Genji decided to remain with Overwatch, and only intended to visit for a short period of time just to see his brother again. Hanzo didn’t blame him; he’d longed for freedom his entire life, and finally found it. When all was said and done, a day was set for them to arrive.

That day came in the spring, when the palace’s cherry blossoms looked especially beautiful, their petals coating the gardens in hues of pink. 

Jesse McCree stood amongst them, with Genji at his side. Hanzo recognized that red cloak and leather hat immediately, their owner stepping away from his brother to approach him. His chest swelled into an aching pain when Jesse approached him, removing his hat and dipping into a low bow. When he sprang back up, he spoke in that deep drawl that Hanzo had missed so desperately.

“Good to see you, my King.”

Hanzo nodded, his heart ready to burst. “And to you.”

Jesse smiled that warm, comforting smile, brushing a hand along Hanzo’s cheek. He leaned down, their foreheads pressing against each other, both parties drinking in the other’s presence.

The world fell around them as they kissed, a new future for Hanamura’s King, and the man who would remain at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of last minute changes and edits to how I ended this story, so I hope everything read ok? Originally this was not going to have a happy conclusion but I didn't wanna break anyone's hearts lmao.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I know this was way too long, and I apologize, but I appreciate anyone who struck through it to the end. I may write a small epilogue in the future to explain their lives post-Tanaka (rest in pepperoni), but only if you guys want it.
> 
> A huge thank you to my wonderful beta [Julia](https://twitter.com/justSaoto) for reading this whole damn thing despite uni and work and for being a precious bean ilu
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://luciolelights.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/luciolelights)


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